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THE OTHER LETTERS LAY UNHEEDED 



GLORJY 

YOVTH 

TEMPLE BAILEY 


Illustrated by 
Henryt Hvtt 
CoBoSON 



mnm pvbllshing 

COMPANY P£iladelp£ia 
1924 


COPYKIGHT 
19 13 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


First printing, August, 1913 
Second printing, February, 1911> 
Third printing February, 1917 
Fourth printing August, 1919 



Manufacturing 

Plant 


Camden, N. J. 


VISL-Mb 


The Glory ol Youth 



To 

My Mother 


















* 







» 



» 


















I 





t 






















Contents 


I. 

Bettina .... 

# 


© 

9 

II. 

In the Shadowy Room . 

• 



21 

III. 

In Which Diana Reaps . 

d 



36 

IV. 

White Lilacs 

• 



5 i 

V. 

In Which Bettina Dances 

• 



64 

VI. 

“ For Every Man There Is 

Just 

One 



Woman ” 

• 


80 

VII. 

Harbor Light 




94 

VIII. 

The Empty House . 

• 



x °5 

IX. 

The Golden Age . 

9 



116 

X. 

Storm Signals 

• 



127 

XI. 

The White Maiden 

• 



141 

XII. 

Youth and Beauty 

• , 



155 

XIII. 

Her Letter to Anthony 

• 



170 

XIV. 

The Little Silver Ring 

• 



185 

XV. 

In Which Bettina Flies 

• 



199 

XVI. 

Voices in the Dark 

• 



213 

XVII. 

Glory of Youth . 

• 



227 

XVIII. 

Penance 

• 



242 

XIX. 

Her Father’s Ring 

• 



257 

XX. 

The “ Gray Gull " 

♦ 



272 

XXI. 

Broken Wings 

♦ 



285 

XXII. 

The Enchanted Forest 




300 

XXIII 

The Procession of Pretty Ladies 


316 

XXIV. 

The Afterglow 

. 

• 


323 


5 





























































. 








































. U A 










..%r' ■ ' 






















■ 














Glory of Youth 


CHAPTER I 


BETTINA 


HE girl knelt on the floor, feverishly packing a 



A shabby little trunk. 

Outside was a streaming April storm, and the rain, 
rushing against the square, small-paned windows, 
shut out the view of the sea, shut out the light, and 
finally brought such darkness that the girl stood up 
with a sigh, brushed off her black dress with thin 
white hands, and groped her way to the door. 

Beyond the door was the blackness of an upper 
hall in a tall century-old house. A spiral stairway 
descended into a well of gloom. An ancient iron 
lantern, attached to a chain, hung from the low ceil¬ 
ing. 

The girl lighted the lantern, and the faint illumina¬ 
tion made deeper the shadows below. 

And from the shadows came a man's voice. 

“ May I come up ? " 


9 


GLORT OF TOOTH 

As the girl bent over the railing, the glow of the 
lantern made of her hair a shining halo. “ Oh,” she 
cried, radiantly, “ I’m so glad you’ve come. I—I 
was afraid-” 

The thunder rolled, the waves pounded on the 
rocks, and the darkness grew more dense, but now 
the girl did not heed, for what mattered a mere 
storm, when, ascending the stairs, was one who knew 
fear neither of life nor of death, nor of the things 
which come after death ? 

When at last her visitor emerged from the gloom, 
he showed himself beyond youthful years, with hair 
slightly touched with gray, not tall, but of a com¬ 
manding presence, with clear, keen blue eyes, and 
with cheeks which were tanned by out-of-door exer¬ 
cise, and reddened by the prevailing weather. 

“ I just had to come,” he said, as he took her 
hand. “ I knew you’d be frightened.” 

“Yes,” she said, “ Miss Matthews is at school, and 
I am alone-” 

“ And unhappy ? ” 

Her lips quivered, but she drew her hand from his, 
and went on into the shabby room, where she lighted 
a candle in a brass holder, and touched a match to a 
fire which was laid in the blackened brick fireplace, 
io 




BETTINA 

The doctor’s quick eye noted the preparations 
for departure. 

“ What does that mean ? ” he asked, and pointed 
to the trunk. 

“ I—I am going away-” 

“ Away ? ” 

“ Yes,” nervously; “ I—I can’t stay here, 

doctor.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Oh,” tremulously, “ it was all right when I had 
mother, because she was so sick that I was too busy 
to realize how deadly lonely it was here. I knew 
she needed the sea air, and she could get it better in 
the top of this old house than anywhere else. But 
now that she’s gone—I can’t stand it. I’m young, 
and Miss Matthews is away all day teaching—and 
when she comes home at night we have nothing in 
common, and there’s the money left from the insur¬ 
ance—and so—I’m going away.” 

He looked at her, with her red-gold hair tn high 
relief against the worn leather of the chair in which 
she sat, at the flower-like face, the slender figure, the 
tiny feet in childish strapped slippers. 

“ You aren't fit to fight the world,” he said; “ you 
aren’t fit.” 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

“ Perhaps it won’t be such*a fight,” she said. " 1 
could get something to do in the city, and-” 

He shook his head. “You don’t know—you 

can’t know-” Then he broke off to ask, 

“ What would you do with your furniture ? ” 

“ Miss Matthews would be glad to take the rooms 
just as they are. She was delighted when you 
asked her to stay with me after mother died. She 
loves our old things, the mahogany and the banjo 
clock, and the embroidered peacocks, and the Vene¬ 
tian heirlooms that belonged to Dad’s family. But 
I hate them.” 

“ Hate them—why?” 

“ Because, oh, you know, because Dad treated 
mother so dreadfully. He broke her heart.” 

His practiced eye saw that she was speaking 
tensely. 

“ I wish you’d get me a cup of tea,” he said, sud¬ 
denly. “ I’m just from the sanatorium. I operated 
on a bad case—and, well, that’s sufficient excuse, 
isn’t it, for me to want to drink a cup of tea with 
you ? ” 

She was busy in a moment with her hospitality. 

“ Oh, why didn’t you tell me ? And you’re wet.” 
Her hand touched his coat lightly as she passed him, 
12 




BETTINA 


“ The rain came so suddenly that I couldn’t get 
the window of my car closed ; it’s an awful storm. 

“And now,” he said, when she had brought the 
tea on an old Sheffield tray, and had set it on a little 
folding table which he placed between them on the 
hearth, “ and now let’s talk about it.” 

“ Please don’t try to make me stay-” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because, oh, because you can’t know what I suf¬ 
fer here; it isn’t just because I’ve lost mother, but the 
people—they all know about her and about Dad, and 
they aren’t nice to me.” 

“ My dear child ! ” 

“ Perhaps it’s because father was a singer and an 
Italian, and mother came of good old Puritan stock. 
They seem to think she lowered herself by marrying 
him. They can’t understand that though he was 
unkind to her, he belonged to an aristocratic Venetian 
family-” 

“ It’s from those wonderful women of Venice, then, 
that you get that hair. Do you remember Browning’s: 

“ * Dear dead women, with such hair, too—what’s become of 
all the gold 

Used to hang and brush their bosoms ? I feel chilly and 
grown old.’ M 


13 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

There was no response to his thought in her young 
eyes. 

“ I’ve never read Browning,” she said, negligently, 
“ and I hate to think of ‘ dear dead women.’ I want 
to think of live things, of bright things, of gay 
things. It seems sometimes as if I should die here 
among the shadows.” 

She was sobbing now, with her head on the table. 

“ Bettina,” the doctor bent over her, “ poor child, 
poor little child.” 

“ Please let me go,” she whispered. 

“ I can’t keep you, of course. I wish I knew what 
to do. I wish Diana were here.” 

“ Diana ? ” 

“ I forgot that you did not know her. She has 
been away for two years. She’s rather wonderful, 
* Bettina.” 

The girl raised her head. The man was gazing 
straight into the fire. All the eager light that had 
made his face seem young had gone, and he looked 
worn and tired. Bettina had no worldly intui¬ 
tions to teach her the reason for the change a 
woman’s name had wrought, and so absorbed was 
she in her own trouble that she viewed the trans¬ 
formation with unseeing eyes. 

14 


BETTINA 

“ What could she do if she were here ? ” she asked 
with childish directness. 

“ She would find some way out of it—she is very 
wise.” He spoke with some hesitation, as a man 
speaks who holds a subject sacred. “ She has had to 
decide things for herself all her life—her father and 
mother died when she was a little girl; now she is 
over thirty and the mistress of a large fortune. 
She spends her winters in the city and her 
summers down here by the sea—but for the past 
two years she has been staying in Europe with 
a widowed friend who was a schoolmate of hers in 
Berlin.” 

“ When is she coming back ? ” 

Out of a long silence, he answered, “ I am not sure 
that she will come back. Her engagement was an¬ 
nounced last fall—to a German, Ulric Van Rosen— 
she is to be married in June.” 

The fact, to him so pregnant of woeful possibili¬ 
ties, meant little to Bettina. 

“ Of course if she’s not here, she can’t do anything 
—and anyhow most people don’t care to do practical 
things to help, do they ? ” 

She looked so childish, so appealing, so altogether 
exquisite and young in her black-robed slenderness, 
15 


GLORT OF TOUTH 

that he answered her as he would have answered a 
child. 

“ It’s too bad that the world should hurt you.” 

“ But I’m going to do wonderful things in the 
city.” 

“ Wonderful things—poor little girl-” 

As he brought his eyes back from the fire to her 
face, he seemed to bring his thoughts back from an 
uneasy reverie. 

“ You ought,” he said, “ to marry-” 

The color flamed into the girl’s cheeks. “ Mother 
was always saying that, in those last days. But I 
hated to have her; it seemed so dreadful to talk qi 
marriage—without love. I know she didn’t mean it 
that way, poor darling ! She married for love and 
her life was such a failure. But I couldn’t—not just 
to get married, could I—not just to have some one 
take care of me ? ” 

He stood up, and thrust his hands in his pockets. 
“ No,” he agreed bluffly, “ you couldn’t, of course.” 

“ And there’s never been any one in love with me,” 
was her naive confession, “ and I’ve never been in 
love, not really-” 

He was looking down at her with smiling eyes. 
4 There s plenty of time.” 

16 



BET TIN A 


“ Yes—that’s what I always told mother—but she 
dreaded to think of me—alone.” 

The eager, dying woman had said the same thing 
to the doctor, and it had seemed to him, sometimes, 
that her burning eyes had begged of him a favor 
which he could not grant. 

For there had always been—Diana ! 

He straightened his shoulders. ‘‘I’m going to ask 
you to stay here,” he said, “ instead of going to the 
city. I haven’t any real right to keep you, for I’m 
not legally your guardian, but I promised your 
mother to look after you. I can find work for you. 
We need some one at the sanatorium to look after 
the office-” 

For a moment she set her will against his. “ But 
Td rather go to the city.” 

He put his strong hands on her shoulders. “ Lit¬ 
tle child, look at me,” he said, and when she flashed 
up at him a startled glance, he went on, gently, 
“Your motner wanted me to take care of you—to 
keep you from harm. In the city you’ll be too fai 
away. I want you to stay here. Will you ? ” 

And presently she whispered, “ I will stay.” 

Outside the rain was rushing and the wind was 
blowing, and plain little Miss Matthews battled with 
17 



GLORT OF TOUTH 

the storm. Miss Matthews, who, every day in the 
year, taught a class of tumultuous children, and 
whose life dealt always with the commonplace. And 
it was plain little Miss Matthews who, having weath¬ 
ered the storm and climbed the winding stairs, came 
in, rain-coated and soft-hatted, to find by the fire the 
doctor drawing on his gloves and Bettina hovering 
about him like a gold-tipped butterfly. 

“ It’s a dreadful storm,” said Miss Matthews, su¬ 
perfluously, as Bettina went to get boiling water. 
“There’s a young man down-stairs who wants to 
speak to you, Dr. Blake. He said that he couldn’t 
find you at the sanatorium. He saw your car in 
front of the house and knew you were here. But 
the bell wouldn’t ring, and so he waited. I told him 
the bell was broken and that you’d come down at 
once. He’s hurt his hand.” 

“They would have fixed him up at the sanato¬ 
rium.” 

“He said he wanted you, and nobody else, and 
that he came into the hall because he was like a 
pussy cat and hated the rain. He is a queer looking 
creature in a leather cap and leather leggins.” 

The doctor gave an amused laugh. “ That’s Justin 
Ford,” he said ; “ the pussy-cat speech sounds like 
18 


BETTINA 

him, and he wears the leather costume when he 
flies.” 

Bettina, coming back with fresh tea for Miss 
Matthews, asked, “ How does he fly ? ” 

“ In an aeroplane. He’s to try out his hydro¬ 
aeroplane to-morrow. He’s probably been at work 
on the machinery and hurt his hand.” 

Bettina sparkled. “ Think of a man who can fly,” 
she said. “ Doesn’t it sound incredible ? ” 

“ It’s the most marvelous thing in the world,” said 
the big-hearted surgeon, not knowing that he, as a 
man of healing, was more marvelous, for he had to do 
with the mechanics of flesh and blood, while Justin 
had to do only with steel and aluminum and canvas, 
which are, at best, unimportant things when compared 
with nerves and ligaments and bones. 

“Would you mind if Ford came up?” the doctor 
asked. “ I’ve got to go straight to my old man with 
the pneumonia after I leave here, and I could look 
at his hand.” 

Bettina shivered. “ Shall I have to look at it ? ” 
she asked in a little voice. 

He laughed. “ Of course not. You can go in the 
other room.” 

But when the young man, who had answered th& 
19 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


doctors call, entered, she did not go, for the face 
which was framed by the leather cap w r as that of a 
youth whose beauty matched her own, and whose 
mocking eyes, as he acknowledged the introduction, 
seemed to beat against the door of her maiden heart 
and demand admission. 


CHAPTER II 


IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 

T HE injury to Justin’s hand proved to be one of 
strain and sprain. 

“ A bandage for a few days,” the doctor pro¬ 
nounced, “ and then a little carefulness, and you’ll 
be all right.” 

Justin lingered. The litde fire was like a heart of 
gold in the shadowy room. Plain little Miss Mat¬ 
thews sipped her tea, with her feet on the fender. 
Bettina, during the doctor’s examination of Justin’s 
hand, had seated herself in her low chair on the 
hearth, and now her eyes were fixed steadily on the 
flames. 

“ It’s a shivery, shaky sort of day,” said Justin, 
surveying the teapot longingly, and Anthony 
laughed. “ He wants his tea, Bettina,” he said, 
“ and a place by your fire. It’s another of his pussy¬ 
cat traits—so if you’ll be good to him, I’ll have an¬ 
other cup, and he shall tell us about his hydro-aero¬ 
plane.” 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


Justin, standing in front of the fire, was like & 
young god fresh from Olympus. His nose was 
straight, his mocking eyes a golden-brown, and, 
with his cap off, his upstanding shock of hair showed 
glittering lights. In deference to the prevailing 
fashion, his fair little mustache was slightly upturned 
at the corners. He had doffed his rain coat, and ap¬ 
peared in a brown Norfolk suit with leather leggins 
that reached his knees. 

“I’m afraid Fve intruded upon your hospitality,” 
he said to Bettina, as she handed him a steaming 
cup, “ but I’m always falling into pleasant things— 
and I haven’t the will power to get out when I should, 
truly I haven’t. But it isn’t my fault—it’s just a 
part of my pussy-cat inheritance.” 

“ He can afford to say such things,” Anthony re¬ 
marked ; “ he’s really more like a bird than a pussy 
cat. You should see him up in the air.” 

Justin’s eyes flashed. “ You should see me com¬ 
ing down on the water after a flight. By Jove, An¬ 
thony, that’s the most wonderful little machine. I’ve 
called her ‘The Gray Gull’ because she not only 
flies but swims—cuts through the water like a motor 
boat.” 

As he talked his eyes were on Bettina. “You 
22 



IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 

beauty, you beauty,” was the thought which thrilled 
him. 

When, at last, he stood up, he apologized some¬ 
what formally. “I’ve stayed too long,” he said, 
“ but Anthony must make my excuses. I was down 
there in Purgatory—and he showed me—Paradise.” 

The doctor looked at him sharply. He knew Jus¬ 
tin as a man of the world—gay, irresponsible—and 
Bettina had no one to watch over her. 

“ I’ll take you as far as the shops,” he said, crisply, 
* * and then I must get at once to my old man with 
the pneumonia.” 

As the two men rode away in the doctor’s small 
covered car, Justin asked, “ Where did you discover 
her ? ” Anthony, his eyes fixed on the muddy 
road ahead of them, gave a brief outline : “ Profes¬ 
sionally. The mother died in those rooms. The 
girl is alone, except for Miss Matthews and the old 
Lane sisters who own the house and live in the lower 
part. I have constituted myself a sort of guardian for 
Bettina—the mother requested it, and I couldn’t re¬ 
fuse.” 

“ I see.” Justin asked no more questions, but set¬ 
tled himself back in a cushioned corner, and as the 
two men rode on in silence, their thoughts were cen- 
23 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


tered on the single vision of a shadowy room, and of 
a slender golden-haired, black-robed figure against a 
background of glowing flame. 

All that night and the next day the doctor battled 
with Death, and came out triumphant. By four 
o’clock in the afternoon the old man with pneumonia 
showed signs of holding his own. 

Worn out, Anthony drove back toward the sana¬ 
torium. The rain was over, but a heavy fog had 
rolled in, so that the doctor’s little car seemed to 
float in a sea of cloud. Now and then another car 
passed him, specter-like amid the grayness. Silent 
figures, magnified by the mist, came and went like 
shadow pictures on a screen. From the far distance 
sounded the incessant moan of fog-horns c 

Anthony stopped his car in front of a small shop, 
whose lights struggled faintly against the gloom. 

Crossing the threshold, he went from a world of 
dampness and chill into the warmth and cheer of an 
old-fashioned fish house. 

For fifty years there had been no change in Lilli- 
bridge’s. The floor of the main room was bare and 
clean, and, in the middle, a round black stove ra¬ 
diated comfort on cold days. Along one side of the 
**0081 ran three stalls, in which were placed tables for 

24 


IN THE SHADOWT ROOM 


such patrons as might desire partial privacy. On 
the spick and span counter were set forth various 
condiments and plates of crackers. A card, tacked 
up on the wall, tempted the appetite with its list 
of sea foods. 

Anthony wanted nothing to eat. He ordered 
coffee, and went into one of the stalls to drink it. 

But a man at one of the tables in the main part of 
the room wanted more than coffee. He was a little 
man in a blue reefer, but he had, evidently, more 
than a little appetite. As Anthony sat down, he was 
just finishing a bowl of chowder, and was gazing with 
eyes of hungry appreciation upon various dishes of 
fried fish and fried potatoes, of hot rolls and pickles 
which were being set before him. 

“ You’d better have some, doctor,” was his hoarse 
invitation. 

“ Too tired,” said Anthony. “Til wait till I’ve had 
a bath and rub-down before I eat-” 

“ What you need,” said the little man, between 
large mouthfuls, “ is a good day’s fishin’. You 
come out to-morrow morning, and we’ll catch some 
cod.” 

The doctor’s tired eyes brightened. “ There’s noth¬ 
ing that I’d like better, captain, but I’ve got an old 

25 


GLORT OF TOUTH 

man ill of pneumonia, and there’s a girl with ap* 
pendicitis.” 

“ There you go,” said the little man ; “ if it wasn’t 
a girl with appendicitis, it would be a kid with the 
colic, or a lady with a claim to heart trouble. Whai 
you’ve got to do, doctor, is to cut it all out and 
come with me.” 

Anthony shook his head. “Suppose some one 
had said to you when you sailed the seas that you 
could leave the ship-?” 

“ I shouldn’t have left,” said the little man, “ but I 
didn’t have such a look as you’ve got in your eyeSc 
What you need is a good night’s sleep, and a day’s 
fishin’. And you need it now.” 

Having eaten presently his last morsel, he ordered 
a piece of pie. “ There’s nothing like sea air to 
blow your brains clear,” he stated “ And when this 
fog lifts, it’ll be fine fishin’ weather.” 

Again the doctor shook his head. “I’d like it, 
more than a little, but I’ve got to stick to my post.” 

Captain Stubbs began on his pie, and remarked, 
“ The trouble with you is that you’re mixed up with 
too many wimmen.” 

Anthony’s head went up. “ What do you mean ? w 

“ Wimmen,” said the little captain, “ are bad 
26 



IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 


enough anyhow. But when you have to handle a 
lot of wimmen with nerves, then the Lord help you/* 

He said it so solemnly that Anthony threw back 
his head and laughed. 

“ Now, up at that sannytarium of yours,” said the 
captain, “ there’s about ten of them that need to be 
dipped into the good salt sea and hung up in the sun 
to dry, and that’s all they need, no coddling and medi¬ 
cine and operations—but just a cold shock and a 
warm-up—and a day’s fishin’.” 

And now Anthony did not laugh. “ By Jove,” he 
said, “ I believe you’re right. I’m going to try some 
personally conducted parties, and you shall take 
them out, captain-” 

“ Me-? ” the captain demanded, incredulously. 

* Me take those wimmen out fishin’ ? ” 

Anthony nodded. “ Yes, once a week. Is it a bar¬ 
gain ? ” 

The captain stood up. “ No, it ain’t,” he said, 
firmly. “ I’ll take you and gladly 0 But not any of 
that nervous bunch.” 

He settled his cap firmly on his head, and went 
toward the door. Then he turned. “ Some day,” 
he said, “ I’m going to ask that Betty child to go out 
in my boat.” 


27 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


“ Bettina? ” Anthony’s mind went swiftly to the 
shadowed room. 

“ Yes. She’s lonesome, and so was her mother 
I used to take fish up to them, and I showed the 
Betty child how to make chowder.” 

“She told me,” said Anthony. “You’re one of 
her best friends, captain.” 

“ Well, goodness only knows she needs friends,” 
said the little captain, adding with a significant 
emphasis which escaped the preoccupied Anthony, 
“ She needs somebody to take care of her.” 

Receiving no response, the little man lighted his 
pipe, buttoned his coat, and, remarking genially, 
“ Well, you let me know about that day’s fishin’,” 
he steamed out. 

After his departure Anthony sat for some time in 
the deserted room. He knew that rest and refresh¬ 
ment were waiting for him and he knew that he 
needed them, but his mind was weighed down by the 
problem of that helpless child in the old house. All 
through the night as he had battled for the life of his 
patient, he had thought of her, who must battle with 
the world. He could get her work, of course, but he 
shrank from the thought of her pale loveliness set to 
sordid uses. 


28 


IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 


With a sudden gesture of resolution, he stood up 
and drew on his gloves. 

Ten minutes later he was climbing the winding 
stairway, where the iron lantern again illumined the 
darkness. 

There had been no response to his call from be¬ 
low, and when he reached the upper landing he 
found the door shut. He knocked and presently 
Bettina came. He saw at a glance that she had been 
crying. 

“ I can stay only a minute,” he said. “ I haven’t 
had much sleep since I saw you yesterday.” 

" HI make you some tea,” she offered, but he 
stopped her with a quick, “ No, no,—I’ve just had 
coffee, and I must get home.” 

They sat down, somewhat stiffly, on opposite sides 
of the hearth. 

“ What made you cry?” he asked, with his keen 
eyes on her downcast face. 

“ Everything—the rain yesterday—the fog to-day. 
I wish the sun would shine—I wish—I were 
—dead-” 

With a sharp exclamation, he stood up. “ You’re 
too young to say such things—there’s all of life be¬ 
fore you.” 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


“Yes,” she said dully “there’s all of life-” 

To him she was a most appealing figure. Her 
weakness seemed to stand out against the back¬ 
ground of his strength. Suddenly he held out his 
hands to her. “Come here, Betty child,” he said, 
using, unconsciously, the little captain’s name for 
her, “ come here.” 

Some new note in his voice made her cheeks 
flame, but she obeyed him. He took both of her 
hands in his. “ I’ve been thinking of you, and your 
future. Somehow I can’t see you, a little slip of a 
thing like you, being beaten and bruised by the 
hard things of life. The world is cruel and you are 
so—sweet. You need some one to take care of 
you-” 

“Yes,” she whispered; “ but there isn’t any one.” 

“ Except me. And I’m such an old fellow—years 
too old for you. But I’m alone, and you’re alone. 
Could I make you happy, Betty child ? ” 

She stared at him, all the bright color gone from 
her face 

“ Why, how ? ” Her voice fluttered and died. 

“ As my wife. There’s the big house on the rocks 
that I am building.” 

He faltered. The great house had been built for 
30 


IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 

Diana, on a sudden hopeful impulse that when it 
was finished she would consent to be its mistress. 

“ There’s the big house,” he went on, after a 
moment, “ and there’s money enough and to spare. 
Not that I want you to marry me for that, but I 
think I could comfort you in your loneliness, 
Bettina.” 

In her secluded girlhood there had been no 
opportunity for masculine adoration; hence there 
seemed nothing lacking when this man of men, 
whose coming during her mother’s illness had made 
the one bright spot in her day, whose sympathy 
had comforted her in her sorrow, whose friendship 
had sustained her in the months which had followed 
her great loss, when he spoke of marriage with 
never a word of love. 

“ But I’m not wise enough or good enough,” she 
said, with a quick catch of her breath. 

He drew her to him, holding her gently. 

“ Would you like,” he asked, “ would you like 
to think that all your life I should take care of 
you ? ” 

She lay quietly, not answering for a while, then 
she whispered, “ Do you really want me ? ” 

Perhaps his arm relaxed a little, but his voice 

3 * 


GLORY OF YOUTH 

was very steady. “ I really want to make you 
happy.” 

“ And you’ll let me love you with all my heart ? ” 
Her eyes were hidden. 

He put his hand against the softness of her hair, 
turning her face up toward him. “ I shall hope that 
you may love me with all your heart, and that I 
may be worthy of it.” 

Her hand crept up and touched his cheek. 11 Kiss 
me,” she whispered, like a child. 

He would have been less than a man if his heart 
had not leaped a little, if he had not responded to 
the love call of this wistful white and gold woman 
creature. 

“ My dear,” he said, brokenly, and bent his head. 

On the foggy streets below men and women 
passed and repassed like ghosts in the stillness. 
Little Miss Matthews, meeting Captain Stubbs on a 
street corner, was unconscious of his nearness until 
the little captain, guided by that sixth sense, which is 
given to sailors for their protection at sea, hailed 
her. 

“You needn’t hurry home,” he told her; “that 
Betty child don’t want you. Dr. Blake is there 
That’s his car.” 


3 * 


IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 


“ He was there yesterday,” said Miss Matthews, 
disturbed by the doctor’s departure from his usual 
routine. 

“And he’ll probably be there to-morrow; he’s 
getting sweet on that Betty child, Miss Mattie.” 

“ Oh, dear, no,” said the shocked Miss Matthews. 
“ Why, he’s in love with Diana Gregory.” 

The captain gazed at her blankly. “You don’t 
mean it,” he protested. 

“ Yes, I do,” said Miss Matthews ; “ they’ve known 
each other all their lives. But she doesn’t want to 
settle down,” 

“ Well, she’d better look out,” said the little cap¬ 
tain ; “ men won't wait forever.” 

“ Men like Anthony Blake,” returned Miss Mat¬ 
thews with conviction, “will. And as for Bettina, 
she's nothing but a child ! ” 

The little captain carried the conversation over, 
tactfully, to his favorite topic. “ I want you and that 
Betty child to go with me for a day’s fishin’ soon,” 
he said ; “ you just name the day.” 

Little Miss Matthews hated the sea, with the 
hatred of a woman whose ancestors had made their 
living on the Banks and had been drowned in storms. 
But she liked the captain. “ I am sure you are very 
33 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


kind,” she said, primly, “ but it will have to be Sat¬ 
urday when there isn’t any school.” 

“ All right,” said the captain,—“ make it a week 
from Saturday, and we’ll probably have clearing 
weather.” 

The doctor, going down, met little Miss Mat¬ 
thews. Bettina, leaning over the rail, greeted the 
little lady somewhat self-consciously. “ I’ll make 
your tea in a minute,” she said ; “ the doctor didn’t 
want any.” 

When Anthony reached the bottom of the stair, 
he looked up. The faint light of the lantern drew a 
circle of radiance about Bettina’s head. 

“Wait,” she called softly, and came down to 
him, and in the darkness whispered that she was 
happy, so very happy—and would she see him 
soon? 

“ To-morrow,” he promised, and went away with 
his pulses pounding. 

All the way home he thought of her. She had 
been charming. He felt like an adventuring knight, 
who, having killed all the dragons, rescues the 
captive princess from her tower. She was a dear 
child. A dear—child. 

At the sanatorium he had a bath and a good 
34 


IN THE SHADOWY ROOM 


dinner, and made his rounds. One little woman, 
when he had passed, spoke to another of his smile. 
“ It is as if he were happy in his heart,” she said, 
quaintly; “ before this his eyes have been sad.” 

Later the doctor found time to read his mail. On 
the top of the pile of letters was a thick one in a 
gray envelope addressed in feminine script. He 
opened it and read eagerly. Then he sat very still, 
trying, amid all the beating agony of emotion, to 
grasp the truth as she had told it. Diana was free. 
Her engagement was broken. She was coming 
back to America. “ I am coming home to the big 
house—and to you—Anthony.” And she would be 
there in iust ten days! 


CHAPTER III 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


A LL the way down in the train Diana kept say 
ing to her friend, “ I am so glad you are go¬ 
ing to see my house, Sophie. You can’t imagine 
how lovely it is.” 

But even then Mrs. Martens was not prepared. 
She was given a room on the third floor from which 
glass doors opened on a litde balcony which over¬ 
hung the harbor. It was like the upper deck of a 
ship with the open sea to the right and left, and with 
a strip of green peninsula cutting into it beyond the 
causeway. 

“ That’s the Neck,” Diana explained ; “ the yacht 
clubs are over there and some hotels and big houses. 
But I like it on this side, in the town. It’s so quaint 
and lovely. I’ll show you some of it to-morrow 
morning.” 

“ I’m not going anywhere to-morrow morning. I 
am going to sleep until noon.” 

Diana bent and kissed her. “ Poor thing, is she 
tired?” 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 

“Dead.” 

“ Well, I won’t wake you. But I am going to be 
up with the dawn, Sophie.” 

Mrs. Martens turned and looked at her. “ Is An¬ 
thony here ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Diana caught her breath as she said it, and the 
two friends stood, silently, looking over the harbor. 

The twilight was taking the blue out of the water, 
but the beauty was still there—with the lights on the 
anchored boats twinkling like stars in the grayness, 
and the lighthouse making a great moon above them. 

“ When will you see him, Diana ? ” 

“ To-night.” 

“Then I’m going to bed.” 

“ You’re not—I want you to meet him, Sophie.” 

“ You want him every bit for yourself. Don’t be 
a hypocrite, Diana.” 

Diana laid her hands on Sophie’s shoulders and 
shook her a little, laughing. 

“ Sophie, do you ever feel so young that you are 
almost wild with it—as if there hadn’t been any 
years since you wore pinafores and pigtails ? ” 

“No—I’m thirty-five, Diana” 

“ Don’t shout it from the housetops. I’m a very 
37 


GLORT OF TOUTH 

few years behind. What a lot of wasted years, So¬ 
phie.” 

44 It’s your own fault, Diana.” 

“ But I wanted to be free-” 

44 And now you are longing for your prison-” 

“ With Anthony—yes.” 

44 You’d better go down and dress, dear. Put on 
that pale blue, with your pearls, Diana. It fits in 
with the moonlight.” 

“ Then you won’t come down ? ” 

44 No. I’ll have Peter for company.” 

Peter Pan was Diana’s cat. He was as yellow as 
a harvest moon, he was fed on fish, and was of a 
prodigious fatness. During Diana’s sojourn abroad 
he had been looked after by Delia Hobbs. 

Delia was Diana’s housekeeper. She had a lame 
hip and a lovely mind. She went up to Mrs. Mar¬ 
tens’ room after Diana had left to see if the little 
lady was comfortable for the night. 

She eyed Peter Pan, who was in the middle of the 
big bed. < 

44 Peter,” she said, severely, “that’s no place for 
you.” 

Peter rolled over, and clawed the lace spread 
luxuriously 


38 



IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


“ Shall I take him off, ma’am ? ” Delia asked. 

“It’s nice to have him here,” said Mrs. Martens* 
doubtfully, “ but perhaps I ought not to let him stay. 
You know best, Delia.” 

Delia, a little flattered by such deference, hesitated. 
“ I might bring his basket up here,” she said ; “ he 
isn’t a bit of trouble. He just goes to sleep and 
doesn’t wake up until morning.” 

As Delia opened the door to go down, the rippling 
measures of “ The Spring Song,” played softly, came 
up to them. Sophie had a vision of Diana in her 
shimmering gown, waiting in the moonlight for An¬ 
thony. 

Delia came back with the basket It was of brown 
wicker with brown cushions. Peter, curled up in it, 
made a sunflower combination. 

“ You are sure you’re all right, Miss Sophie ? ” De¬ 
lia asked as she stood on the threshold. “ If you 
don’t want the electric light, there’s a candle on your 
table, and if you like the air straight from the sea you 
can open the door on the porch. Miss Diana used 
to like to lie and look at the moonlight.” 

The whole world seemed obsessed by the moon¬ 
light Its white radiance, when Mrs. Martens at last 
turned off the glaring bulbs, seemed to cast a spell 
39 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


over sea and land. She stepped out on the porch, 
and was awed by the beauty of the wide sweep of 
shining sky and sea. Then, far below on the hid¬ 
den road, she heard the beat of a motor. 

The sound ceased and a man’s quick step came 
up the path. There was the whirr of an electric 
bell, and she knew that Anthony had come. 

Well, Diana had her Anthony—and she had— 
Peter ! She laughed a little to stifle a sigh. Diana 
had the substance—she her shadowy memories. 

A faint breeze had sprung up. The yachts 
tugged at their moorings as the tide turned. Far to 
the southeast Minot’s light blinked its one-four- 
three—“ I-wam-you ”—message to the ships. Diana 
had once said of it, “ The sweethearts off the coast 
translate it differently—‘ I-love-you.’ That’s what 
Anthony told me.” 

How she had always quoted him! Even when 
for a brief time she had drifted toward that other, she 
had clung to her belief in Anthony’s faith and good¬ 
ness—and when she had shaken herself free she had 
flown back to him. 

And now—-in the dim room below Diana was com¬ 
ing at last into her own ! 

The little lady crept into bed, shivering—perhaps 
40 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


with the chill of the spring night, perhaps with the 
thought of the happiness from which she was left 
out. 

Presently she heard again the beat of the motor. 
Beginning in front of the house, it grew fainter in the 
distance ; then silence, and at last a soft step on the 
stairs. 

“ Sophie/’ there was that in Diana’s voice which 
made her sit up and listen, “ Sophie, are you asleep?” 

Mrs. Martens lighted the bedside candle with 
shaking hands. Diana came forward into the circle 
of light. Diana—with all of youth gone from her. 
Diana stripped of joy. Diana with the shimmering 
blue gown seeming to mock the tragedy in her face. 

She came up to the bed and stood looking down 
at her friend. 

“ Listen, Sophie,” she said, brokenly, “ see what 
I’ve done. Anthony is engaged, Sophie. Engaged 
to another girl! ” 

Peter, in his basket, slept soundly all night But 
Sophie slept not at all And early in the morning 
she went down to her friend. 

Diana had taken the room which had been her 
mother’s. She had kept the carved canopy bed and 
4i 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


other massive pieces, but she had changed the 
hangings and the wall covering from mauve to rose- 
color. 

“ You see, Sophie,” she had explained one day in 
Berlin, 41 there comes a time in the life of every 
woman when she needs rose-color to counteract the 
gray of her existence. If you put blue with gray you 
get gray. But if you put pink with gray you get 
rose-color. Perhaps you didn't know that before, 
Sophie, but now you do. And you’ll know also that 
when I dare wear a blue gown I am feeling posi¬ 
tively infantile.” 

Diana, in neglige, had always made Mrs. Martens 
think of a rose in bloom. She had a fashion of 
swathing her head, cap-fashion, in wide pink ribbon, 
and her cr£pe kimonos always reflected the same en¬ 
chanting hue. 

But this morning it was a white rose which lay 
back on the pillows. Diana’s loose brown braids 
hung straight down on each side of her pale face. 
There were shadows under her eyes. 

44 Don’t look at me that way, Sophie,” she said, 
sharply, as Mrs. Martens came up to the bed. 44 1— 
I’m not going into a decline—-or break my heart— 
or-” 


42 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


She broke off and said in a changed voice, 
“ You’re a dear.” Then with a pitiful little laugh, 
44 It wouldn’t be so hard—but she’s so young, 
Sophie.” 

44 Eighteen—poor Anthony 1 ” 

14 Do you think he is really unhappy, Sophie ? ” 

The night before when she had lain in Mrs. 
Martens’ comforting arms, she had thought only of 
her own misery. For a time she had been just a lit¬ 
tle sobbing child to be consoled. All her poise, all 
her self-restraint had gone down under the force of 
the overwhelming shock. 

But now a wild hope sprang up in her breast. 
Why should two people suffer for the sake of one ? 
And the other girl was so young—she would get 
over it. 

Yet, remembering Anthony’s face as he had left 
her, she had little hope. . 

44 1 wish you might have been prepared for this,” 
he had said. 44 1 wrote a letter, but it must have 
missed you. Perhaps it has been best to talk it out 
—that’s why I came. May I still come, sometimes, 
Diana ? ” 

Then her pride had risen to meet the crisis. 

44 As if anything could spoil our friendship, An- 
43 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


thony,” she had told him bravely. “ I want you to 
come—and some day you must bring—the Girl.” 

“ You will like her,” he had said, eagerly, with a 
man’s blundering confidence, “ and you can help her. 
She is very lonely, Diana—and I was lonely ——” 

That had been the one shred of apology which he 
had vouchsafed for the act which had spoiled their 
lives. 

When he had first entered the moonlighted room, 
sWe had turned from the piano and had held out her 
hands to him. 

He had taken them, and had stood looking down 
at her, with eyes which spoke what his lips would 
not say. 

And at last he had asked, “ Why didn’t you marry 
that fellow in Berlin, Di ? ” 

“ Because I didn’t love him, Anthony. I found 
out just in time—and I found out, too, just in time 
that—it was you—Anthony.” 

Then he had said, “ Hush,” and had dropped her 
hands, and after a long time, he had spoken. “ Di, 
I’ve asked another woman to marry me, and she has 
said, ‘Yes.’ ” 

Out of a stunned silence she had whispered. “ How 
—did it happen ? ” 


44 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


“ Don’t ask me—it is done—and it can’t be urn 

done—we have made a mess of things, Diana-” 

He gave the bare details ; of the sick mother who 
had crept back after years of absence to die in her 
own town, of the girl and her loneliness, of her child¬ 
like faith in him. 

When he had finished, she had laid her hand on 
his arm. “ But do you love her, do you really love 
her, Anthony ? ” had been her desolate demand. 

He had drawn back, and not meeting her eyes, had 
said, very low, “ You haven’t the right to ask that 

question, Di, or I to answer it-” 

And in that moment she had realized that the bar¬ 
rier which separated herself and Anthony was high 
enough to shut out happiness. 

“ Oh—oh.” As Diana’s thoughts came back to the 
present, she sat up in bed and wept helplessly. “ Oh 
I don’t know what I am going to do, Sophie. I’ve 
always been so self-sufficient, and now it seems as if 

my whole world revolves about one man-” 

Never before had Diana, self-contained Diana, 
talked to her friend of the things which lay deep 
beneath the surface, but now she revealed her soul 
to the little woman who had known love in all its 
fulfilment, and who, having lost that love, still lived 
45 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


«• What you must do,” said Sophie, softly, “ is to 
face it. You've got to look at the thing squarely, 
dearest-dear. It is because you and Anthony forgot 
to keep burning the sacred fires that this trouble has 
come upon you.” 

“ What do you mean, Sophie ? ” 

“ When two people love each other,” said Sophie, 
slowly, “it is a wonderful thing, a sacred thing, 
Diana. What you gave Ulric was not love—you 
were fascinated for the moment, and when you found 
him disappointing, you let him go lightly, yet all the 
time, deep in your heart, was this great Anthony—is 
it not so, my Diana ? ” 

“Yes,” the other whispered, with her face 
hidden. 

“ And Anthony, when he thought he had lost you, 
took this little girl to fill your place—and she can 
never fill it, and so because each of you has made 
of love a light thing, you must have your punish¬ 
ment We must reap what we sow, Diana. 

“ Don't think I am not sympathetic, liebchen,” 
she went on, “ but, oh, Diana, I'd rather see you this 
way than with Ulric Van Rosen as your lover.” 

She knelt by the bed with her arms about her 
friend. Two years before Diana had comforted 
46 


IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


Sophie when death had claimed the great-hearted 
husband who had made the little woman’s life com¬ 
plete. Since then they had clung together, and 
there had developed in Sophie an almost maternal 
devotion for the brilliant girl who had hitherto moved 
through life triumphant and serene. 

Delia, at the door, presented a worried face. “ I’ve 
got some milk toast for Miss Diana,” she explained, 
“ and your breakfast is waiting for you, Miss 
Sophie-—” 

“ Breakfast,” Diana pushed back the brown bright¬ 
ness of her hair and laughed hysterically ; “ is that 
the way the world must go on for me now, Sophie ? 
You know—for you’ve been through it—must I eat 
and drink and be merry when my heart is— 
broken-? ” 

“ Hush.” Again she was in Sophie’s arms. “ Delia 
will hear.” 

But Delia’s imagination had not grasped the pos¬ 
sibility of any mental or spiritual disturbance. “ I 
guess she’s got one of her mother’s headaches,” she 
said, as she edged herself further into the room. “ I 
always knew she’d have them some day—although 
up to now she’s been perfectly well.” 

“ Set the tray on the table, Delia,” Mrs. Martens 
47 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


spoke over her shoulder, “ and I'll come down pres 
ently—and you might go up and get Peter. I think 

I shut the door as I came out-” 

Delia took the hint. “ There’s broiled fish and 
waffles, 1 ” she complained, as she departed, “ and they 
don’t taste any better for waiting.” 

“You go down, Sophie,” said Diana, when they 
were alone—“ and I’ll get up presently, and then— 

I’ll see some way out of it-” 

At her tone, her friend who had crossed the room 
to pull up the shades turned and looked at her. 
" What way can you see, Diana ? ” 

Diana slipped out of bed and stood up, tall and 
white, with the long brown braids hanging heavily 
to her knees. 

“ There must be some way,” she said, “ for all of 
us. I don’t believe in sitting down and letting things 
go wrong, and they may be as wrong for that little 
girl as for Anthony and me—surely one must use 

common sense in a case like this-” 

Sophie pulled up the curtain, letting in a flood of 
sunshine. 

“ One may use common sense,” she said, “ but one 
must be very careful-” 

Diana twisted her braids into a coronet, and put 
48 



IN WHICH DIANA REAPS 


on a padded Japanese robe, for the air blew cool 
from the sea. Then she sat down at her desk. 

“ I am going to ask her to come and visit me, So¬ 
phie. I want you to take the letter when you go 
down to breakfast.” 

“ To visit you—who ?” 

“ Bettina. She can stay until Anthony’s big house 
is ready. I want to know his little girl.” 

While Diana wrote her note, Sophie stepped out 
on the porch which matched her own above it. The 
harbor lay still and beautiful, a sapphire sheet in the 
morning calm. The anchored boats seemed to sleep 
like great white birds on its bosom. 

Suddenly there broke upon the stillness the sound 
of a great buzzing, as of some mammoth bee. 

“ What is it ? ” asked Diana, standing in the door¬ 
way. 

“ Look, oh, look,” cried Sophie, and then they saw 
above them, darting like a dragon-fly through the 
golden haze, a magic ship of the air. 

“I wonder who’s flying,” said Diana, as they 
watched it go up and up until it was a mere speck 
against the blue. “ They are daring folk, these fly¬ 
ing men—yet there are men more daring. If you 
could see Anthony’s hands ! Those strong, compe- 
49 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

tent hands that work with instruments and surgeon’s 
needles, and a slip may mean some one’s life—it’s 
such men who are the bravest, Sophie, not the men 
who fly.” 

The little woman stepped back within the circle of 
her friend’s arm. Diana towered a head above her, 
yet spiritually she leaned on Sophie’s fineness and 
faith. 

Their eyes followed that astounding flight, but 
their thoughts were with a man whose mornings 
were spent not in the golden radiance of the upper 
air, but in the bare blackness of an operating room. 

Suddenly Diana spoke sharply. “ If I have lost 
him, Sophie, what shall I do ? ” 

“ What do all women do,” said Sophie, still gaz 
ing with rapt face up into the heavens, “ what do all 
women do who lose the men they love ? They pray 
for courage, Diana, and for strength—and then—and 
then they fight as best they can until the end— 
Diana” 


' CHAPTER IV 


WHITE LILACS 

“ TSN’T it dear of her to ask me? ” 

A “ Very.” Anthony took the note which Bet- 
tina handed him. In his desk were many letters 
written on the gray paper with the silver monogram. 
Subconsciously he realized that he ought to des¬ 
troy them, but there was time enough for that. 

“ She says she wants me to stay with her all sum¬ 
mer ; do you think I ought ? ” 

“ She would not have asked you if she had not 
meant it.” 

Bettina, with her small feet on the fender, con¬ 
sidered the situation. 

“ You’ll have to come and see me there, and Fll 
miss our twilight talks by the fire, with Miss Mat¬ 
thews away, and tea, and no one to interrupt-” 

The days are growing longer. Soon there will 

be no twilights and no fire-” 

“ And you want me to go ? ” 

His nature was perfectly honest, and he meant 
5 * 




GLORT OF YOUTH 

that there should be no barriers between himself and 
this child-woman. So he told her the truth. “ I 
don't know. But you'll be very gay. There'll be 
the dances at the yacht clubs, and you'll be enter¬ 
tained on the boats, and you’ll meet lots of people. 
Diana knows every one, and her money and posi¬ 
tion and her beauty make her much in demand." 

“ Isn’t it funny she has never married ?" 

“ Funny"—sharply ; “ no, it’s not funny. It’s 
tragic." 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Because such women as Diana should marry. 
She has all the qualities for a wife and mother—she 
is wise and true and good, and there aren’t many 
women like that in the world-" 

“ Oh," the girl drew her breath quickly, “ I'm not 
like that—I'm little and childish, and I’m not wise.” 

He saw what he had done and tried to make 
amends. 

“ You are—you, Bettina." 

“ Well," Bettina crossed the hearth-rug, and sat 
down on a stool at his feet, “ she's awfully old, isn't 
she?" 

“ My dear, she’> years younger than I." 

“Oh, you," she laughed and laid her cheek 
52 


WHITE LILACS 

against his hand. “ Your heart is just my age, isn’t 
it?” 

He moved restlessly, then stood up, with Diana’s 
note still in his hand. 

“ You’d better write and tell her you’ll come,” he 
said. “ I’ll take you over to-morrow in my car.” 

She surveyed him wistfully. “ Oh, must you 
really go ? ” 

“Yes. There’s the old man with the pneumonia, 
and the girl with appendicitis, and the new baby at 
the hospital—I can’t neglect them, Bettina.” 

“ When we are married,” she asked, tremulously, 
“ will all these sick people keep you from me-” 

“A doctor belongs to his patients, my dear--” 

“ I suppose he does,” pensively, “ but I shall be 
terribly jealous of your old men with the pneumonia, 
and your gills with appendicitis. I shall want you.” 

If she had hoped to please him by her frank 
avowal she failed, for he stood looking at her with an 
expression which made her say hastily, ** Don’t 
you want me to want you ? ” 

“ I was wondering if I could make you happy.” 

She gave a little musical note of protest. “ I am 
the happiest girl in the world, except—oh, if mother 
could only know.” 


S3 




GLORT OF TOOTH 

With a quick change of mood, she was sobbing in 
his ahns. The masses of her hair lay soft against his 
lips, one slim white hand crept to touch his cheek. 
He imprisoned the small hand in his. “We must 
have a ring for this soon,” and she shifted her head 
so that she could look up at him from under wet 
lashes. “ Oh,” she said, “ shall I ? ” 

“ Of course. What shall it be ? ” 

“ Anything but pearls; they mean tears, you 
know.” 

With a quick throb of the heart, he remembered 
that Diana always wore pearls. Was there some¬ 
thing after all in the old superstition, and were the 
rest of Diana’s days to be dreary because she had 
chosen the wrong jewels ? 

Diana> Diana , Diana t would his mind never leave 
her ? 

Then as if his thought had brought her, he heard 
her voice upon the stairs. 

“ May I come up ? I rang, but no one answered.” 

“ The bell is broken.” He hurried out into the hall, 
and watched her ascend, with her arms full of white 
lilacs, her gray eyes shaded by a white veil thrown 
back from a broad hat, and around her throat the 
inevitable string of pearls. 

54 


WHITE LILACS 


“ I’ve come to bring some of my flowers to your 
little Betty child, and to get her answer to my riote.” 

She was smiling now, smiling at him, and at 
Bettina, who had come forward timidly. 

Diana laid the lilacs on the table, and drew the 
girl into her arms. “ When shall it be, my dear ? 
It seems such a perfect plan to me. The big house 
isn’t finished. You can’t go into it until fall, and I 
can help you get things ready. What do you think, 
Anthony?” 

“ I don’t know. I’ll leave it to your wisdom.” 

“ Then I am sure it will be best,” she responded 
cheerfully, “and now, why not to-morrow?” 

“ I haven’t anything to wear,” Bettina stated, anx¬ 
iously. 

“ There’s a sewing woman at the house, and 
Sophie and I have brought lots of things from Paris.” 

“ Really ? And will you tell me all about your 
trip?” 

“ Sophie will tell you. She’s the talker. I like to 
listen—Anthony knows that.” 

If she had meant to stab him by reviving old 
memories, she succeeded. How he had missed the 
responsiveness which had spurred him on to talk his 
best only his hurt heart knew. It had been her be- 
55 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


lief in him, which had supplemented his ability, and 
had brought him success, and he knew it and she 
knew it, and now Bettina was to try to play that in¬ 
spiring part. 

Nothing of his thought showed, however, in his 
impassive countenance. He stood up and held out 
his hand. 

“ My old man with the pneumonia is waiting,” he 
said, “ and you’ll want to visit a bit with Bettina.” 

“ But there’s one thing,” he continued hurriedly, 
“ that I’d like to speak of before I leave—to have 
settled. Do you think it will be wise to make a 
public announcement of our engagement ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” sharply. 

Bettina glanced from one to the other, conscious 
of some undercurrent of feeling which she did not 
share. 

“ It’s just this way,” said Anthony, slowly; “ if 
Bettina could meet your friends and mine, under 
your auspices, chaperoned by you, they would dis¬ 
cover her charms and loveliness,” he smiled at the 
girl, “ and they’d then welcome her with open arms. 
Now she knows none of them; it would be only on 
your account that she would be received, not upon 
her own, and I think she’d like the other bettei 
56 


WHITE LILACS 


Diana. What do you think, Bettina ? ” he asked. 
“ It is for you to say.” 

Bettina, who was making a tiny white nosegay of 
lilacs to pin on Anthony's coat, turned to them a 
sparkling countenance. 

“ Me—does it matter ? Does anything matter 
except that I am going to marry you, Anthony ? ” 

She held out her hands to him, laughing over her 
shoulder at Diana. With her flower face, her hair 
of gold, her figure slim and swaying like a lily on 
its stem, she was radiantly, almost impertinently 
young, and, with a sudden sense of age and weari¬ 
ness, Diana buried her face in the lilacs to hide a 
whiteness which matched their own. 

But she had not been quick enough to escape the 
keen eyes of Anthony. 

He dropped Bettina's hands. “ I’ll stop to-morrow 
morning, child, on my way to the sanatorium, and 
take you over.” 

“ And dine with us later,” said Diana. “ Pm going 
to have a lot of people. It will be a sort of im¬ 
promptu housewarming. I've telephoned about a 
dozen old friends.” 

“ But I haven't anything to wear.” Bettina *as 
again in a panic. 


57 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

“You’ll have about twelve hours to get ready/* 
Diana comforted ; “ we can do a lot in that time.” 

But her mind was not on clothes, for she followed 
the doctor out into the hall to say, “ She’s just 
sweet, Anthony- 

“ Don’t,” suddenly all the calm of his fine face was 
broken up, “ don’t, Diana-” 

Then Bettina came out with the little nosegay of 
white lilacs. 

“ You were going away without it,” she said 
reproachfully to the doctor, who was half-way down 
the stairway. 

“ Throw it to me and I’ll catch it,” he called. 

But she ran after him and pinned it on and dropped 
a hasty kiss in the midst of its fragrance, and ran 
up again, blushing. 

And Diana watched the little scene from the top 
of the stairs and wondered if she had overestimated 
her own power to endure. 

The two women, standing at the window high up 
in the hallway, saw the doctor depart, then Diana 
said, suddenly, “ Betty, dear, must you wear black ? ” 

The girl’s lip trembled. 

“ But—mother-” 

“ I know. But, dearie, it wouldn't make her any 
58 



WHITE LILACS 


happier to see you so somber. And there’s white for 
you, and all the pale, pretty tints, and you wouldn’t 
be too gay, nor sadden others.” 

“ But your friend, Mrs. Martens,” said Bettina, 
eagerly ; “ Anthony pointed her out to me this after 
noon—she passed here on her way to the post- 

office, and she was in deep mourning-” 

“ Sophie’s life is all behind her; yours is ahead of 
you.” 

“ Wouldn’t it seem like—forgetting ? ” 

“ You can never forget. But when you come to 
me there will be young people, and I want you to 
share their life. Shall we call it settled, and plan a 
white dress for to-morrow night ? ” 

Diana had a fashion of calling things settled, and 
of bringing others to her point of view. Bettina 
had no sense of injury, but only boundless confi¬ 
dence in the decisions of the wonderful woman 
creature who was to fill her life with gladness. 

“There will be twelve of us to-morrow night,” 
she sketched rapidly. “Anthony and you and 
Sophie and I will make four, then there will be 
two comfortable married couples, and Justin Ford, 
who is flying his hydro-aeroplane over the harbor, 
and Bobbie Tucker, who has his yacht in com* 
59 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


mission, and Sara Duffield, whom you won’t care 
lor, because she is a bit of a snob, and Doris Sears, 
who is sweet and girlish and about your age. 

“Sophie and I have picked out the dress you are 
to wear,” she continued. “ I think you are just about 
Sophie’s size, and there’s an embroidered white, very 
sheer and fine, with a round low neck and short 
sleeves, and a girdle of amethyst, and silk stockings 
and satin slippers of the same color. I’m not sure 
whether the slippers will fit, but I fancy that a bit 
of cotton tucked into the toes would make them all 
right 

“ And I want you to wear your hair like I saw the 
girls in Paris—curled over your ears with a soft 
fringe—you’ll look adorably young, Betty, and so 
dear and sweet.” 

The girl’s cheeks were brilliant with excitement. 
“Why, it doesn’t seem true. Two days ago I was 
like Cinderella sitting in the ashes, and now I’m 
a fairy princess, and you are the fairy god¬ 
mother.” 

“Am I, my dear?” Diana spoke absently ; her 
eyes were on a wonderful piece of lace, which, framed 
quaintly against a background of velvet, hung above 
a cabinet in the corner. 


60 


WHITE LILACS 

“ Where did you get that collar, Bettina ? ” she 
asked. 

“ It was one of the things that belonged to father’s 
family,” the girl explained. “ You know he was an 
Italian, a Venetian—and mother would never let me 
wear the collar or the old jewels. There’s a queei 
ring. I’m going to give it to Anthony for a wedding 
ring.” 

She spoke the last words with a charming hesita¬ 
tion, then went to the little cabinet in the corner and 
unlocked a drawer. Within was a carved box which 
when opened showed a massive golden circlet. 

“ Dad wore it,” said Bettina, “ on his little finger, 
but his hands were fat. Anthony’s fingers are slim, 
and he can fit it on the third finger. If he can’t get 
it on the third finger, he shan’t wear it.” 

Diana stared at her in surprise. “Why not?” 

“ Because it would remind me of Dad,” said Bet¬ 
tina, “ and I hated Dad.” 

Here was a new phase of a nature which Diana 
had judged gentle and yielding. 

“ But, my dear,” she protested, “ surely he was 
your father.” 

“ He broke mother’s heart,” said Bettina, obsti¬ 
nately ; “ he loved so many times, and there’s only 
61 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


one love that is worth while, and people who can go 
frem one person to another aren’t worth thinking 
about.” 

It was the judgment of a child ignorant of life, but 
so aptly did her condemnation fit in with Sophie’s 
words of the night before, that Diana drew a sharp 
breath. “ Perhaps he was only mistaken,” she said ; 
“ perhaps he didn’t understand until it was too late 
what he had lost.” 

“ He should have understood. I don’t want to be 
harsh—he was my father, and I wouldn’t talk this 
way to every one. But suppose Anthony treated me 
the way my father treated mother. Suppose he told 
me he loved me, and then—some day, I found that 
he cared—for some one else. What would you 
think of him then—what would you think of An¬ 
thony ? ” 

As she brought her argument to a triumphant 
close, Diana put up her white-gloved hands as if to 
ward off a blow, then she said, a little breathlessly, 
“ Don’t let Anthony wear the ring—not yet-” 

Bettina, unconscious of the emotion she had roused, 
put the ring back in the box. 

“ I don’t believe I shall,” she said, thoughtfully; 
“ there’s an old superstition that a ring worn by an 
62 


WHITE LILACS 


inconstant person carries inconstancy with it—and 
while I don’t believe it—it would make me uncom¬ 
fortable.” 

“ It would—indeed,” was Diana’s fervent confirma¬ 
tion. 

She was still shivering with the shock of the girl¬ 
ish outburst. 

“ She loves him,” she said to herself in dismay, 
" She really loves him.” 

She rose and laid her hand on Bettina’s shoulder. 
“ Forget to be unhappy while you are with me, 
Betty, dear. You are going to be very gay—and, 

oh, so very, very young-” She bent and kissed 

her. “ And now, I want you to do two things for 
me ;—first, you must call me Diana—and second, 
you must believe that I am really your friend. If I 
ever do anything to make you doubt, remember 
this, that in my heart is just one wish, to help my 
old friend Anthony to happiness -—” 

The girl laughed softly, her head up, her eyes 
shining. “ You can’t make him much happier than 
he is,” she said ; “ it may sound awfully conceited, 
but I think he’s happy—because he’s going to marry 
me—-Diana.” 


63 


CHAPTER V 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 

D IANA’S house, set high on the rocks, hung 
over the harbor. In the quaint old town, 
front doors became back doors, kitchens looked out 
on the street, and the windows of living-rooms and 
dining-rooms faced the sea. But there were two 
seasons when the rocky and ignored gardens of the 
town were ablaze with beauty—in the lilac month of 
the spring, and in the dahlia month of the fall. 

It was at the time of lilac bloom that Bettina came 
to make her wonderful visit to Diana, and, after an 
exciting day in which she had been swept from the 
hands of the dressmaker to the hands of the hair¬ 
dresser, thence to Sophie for inspection and to Diana 
for confirmation of the completeness of her attire, she 
found herself, arrayed in all her glory, alone in the 
wide hallway. 

The door was open at the end which faced the town, 
and the fragrance of the lilacs poured in. The soft 
wind swayed the branches of the bushes so that they 
64 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


seemed to float like white and purple clouds against 
a background of blue. 

On the step sat Peter Pan, and as Bettina came 
toward him he rose to meet her and together they 
went down the path. 

It was there in the old garden that Justin and 
Bobbie came upon her. They were in the white 
flannels and blue coats which Diana’s informality per¬ 
mitted. The insignia on Bobbie’s cap proclaimed 
him a yachtsman. 

Justin, having presented Bobbie, smiled straight 
into Bettina’s eyes. 

“To think of finding you here,” he said. 

“ How is your hand ? ” was her practical question. 

“ Dr. Anthony cured it. I was able to fly yester¬ 
day over the harbor. When are you going to fly 
with me?” 

“ Never.” Bettina shivered with apprehension. 

“ Oh, but you’d like it,” broke in Bobbie, eagerly. 
“I’ve been up w r ith him, and it’s like floating on a 
sea of sunshine. I give you my word the sensation 
is delightful.” 

Justin said no more on the subject He could 
wait, but some day he was going to fly with this 
little golden girl. He wondered who had been in- 
65 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


spired to dress her in that white and amethyst com¬ 
bination. She was as flower-like as the lilacs them¬ 
selves—she belonged to them ; she was exquisite. 

He walked beside her, content to let Bobbie mon¬ 
opolize the conversation, which was unusual, for Jus¬ 
tin liked to be the center of things. He had always 
been the center of things, and he was not diffident, 
as a rule, in his approaches toward friendship. 

“ The funny thing about this place/’ Bobbie was 
saying, “ is that you have to pass the kitchen door 
to get to the front. When I was a little boy Delia 
used to roll out cookies on that table by the window, 
and I’d sit on the step and wait for them.” 

“ Delia’s a dear,” said Bettina. “ I fell in love 
with her the minute I came. And I fell in love with 
Peter.” 

Peter, hearing his name, jumped down from the 
stone wall, where he had been watching the robins, 
and again joined them. 

“ Peter and I are old friends,” said Bobbie, and 
stopped to pet him. 

“So you are going to stay with Diana?” Justin 
asked. 

Bettina nodded “ Yes. Isn’t she wonderful ? ” 

“ Wonderful. It’s a pity we aren’t a monarchy, 
66 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


so that Diana could rule as a queen. She’s that 
kind of woman. A man instinctively looks up to 
her” 

“ That’s what Anthony says.” 

Marveling somewhat at her familiar use of the 
name of the distinguished surgeon, Justin replied, 
“ Oh, of course, Anthony thinks she’s perfect. He’ll 
marry her some day.” 

Bettina’s startled glance questioned him. “What 
makes you say that? He won’t, of course, but what 
makes you say it ? ” 

“ Because it would be such a perfect arrangement. 
They are so well matched.” 

“ It wouldn’t be perfect at all. People who are 
alike never ought to marry. And, anyhow, they’ve 
never thought of such a thing.” 

“ How do you know ? ” 

“ Because they are not in love. Any one can see 
that who sees them together. They are just good 
friends—and friendship is a very different thing from 
love.” 

Justin stared at her in amazement for a moment, 
then he threw back his head and laughed. “ Oh, 
wise young woman,” he said, “ talk to me some more 
of love-” 


67 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

" Who’s talking of love ? ” asked Bobbie, coming 
up. 

“ Bobbie doesn’t think of anything else,” said Jus¬ 
tin; “ only he’s never sure of its object. Last month 
it was Sara, and now it is Doris—next week it will 
be—” 

“ Next week,” said Bobbie, firmly, “ it will be Doris, 
—and the next and the next—and always- 

They were on the porch now—the wide porch with 
its rugs and low wicker chairs, its gay striped awh* 
ing and its bowls of white and purple lilacs. 

Sophie was waiting for them, and Justin greeted 
her with all the light carelessness gone from his 
voice, 

“ Dear lady, it is good to see you again, but hard 
to see this,” and his eyes went to her black gown. 

Her lips were tremulous. “ I know. But when I 
meet people who knew him, it does not make me 
sad; it makes me glad because all of his friends are 
my good friends.” 

“ There are two men whom I always place side by 
side as peers ; one is Anthony Blake and the other 
your husband. The surgeon and the scientist-” 

“ Yes,” she said, “ and they never met. But 
Diana knew him—and loved him.” 

68 


IN WHICH BET TIN A DANCES 

“And she loves—Anthony-” 

Mrs. Martens gave him a startled look. “ Hush, 1, 
she said. “ Oh, no, you mustn’t think that.” 

“ Perhaps she doesn’t realize,” he said, slowly, 
“ but the world can see it with half an eye. And 
everybody knows Anthony’s devotion.” 

He stopped short as Diana appeared in the door¬ 
way. She wore white lace, with a crescent of pearls 
set just above the parting of her dark hair. 

Justin was on his feet in a moment. “ Diana, 
the huntress,” he said. “You shouldn’t appear like 
that suddenly on a moonlight night unless you want 
to be worshiped as a goddess-” 

Diana laughed. “ Please don’t call me 4 the 
huntress ’ again. It has a sort of * woman still pur¬ 
sued him ’ sound.” 

Justin, with Diana, was his light mocking self. 
With Bettina he had been self-conscious, with Sophie 
tenderly sympathetic—but Diana played up, as it 
were, to his boyish attitude of adoration. 

“ Are we all here but Anthony ? ” she asked, with 
her eyes sweeping the length of the porch where the 
guests had gathered. “ He’s probably looking after 
somebody with appendicitis, or with a broken 
arm-” 

69 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ No, he isn’t.” Bettina spoke with the assur¬ 
ance of direct knowledge. “ This time it is a man’s 
nose ; it had to be sewed up.” 

She shivered as she said it, and her audience 
roared. 

“I’m glad it’s not Bobbie’s nose,” said Justin; 
“ it’s the only really handsome feature he possesses 
isn’t it, Doris ? ” 

The blushing Doris murmured inarticulately. She 
thought Bobbie beautiful, and wondered why any 
one should designate his nose so explicitly. 

Diana regretted that she had not warned Bettina 
against such assumption of intimacy with Anthony. 
If people were not to know of the engagement, it 
was not well — 

But Anthony had come, perfectly groomed, from 
the tips of his white shoes to the top of his head, and 
presently he was bending over her hand, and saying, 
pleasantly, “ It’s a jolly lot of us you’ve got to¬ 
gether, Di. Did I keep you waiting ? ” 

“ If you had, it wouldn’t be me, but Delia, to 
whom you’d have to apologize. She’s the real 
head of the house, you know.” 

Justin took Bettina out, Anthony took Sophie, and 
one of the married men Diana. At the table Bettina 
70 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


sat between the other married man and Justin, much 
to her discomfort, for she craved the seat next to the 
doctor, where perchance she might slip her fingers 
into his ; he seemed so far away, and they were all 
strangers. 

But no one could be shy with Justin. “ Of course 
we’re going to be great friends,” he said. 

Bettina eyed him doubtfully. 

“ Why ? ” she asked. 

Here at least was no meek surrender to his charms, 
and Justin girded himself for the flirtation. 

“ Well, I’m Diana’s friend,” he ventured. 

“Yes?” 

“ Isn’t that reason enough ? ” 

“ No.” 

“Why not?” 

“ I like to choose my friends for myself.” 

“ Won’t you choose me ? ” 

She smiled up at him. “ Of course; don’t be 
silly.” 

After that they got on famously. Justin exerted 
himself to please, and Bettina, with shining eyes, 
laughed softly in response to his clever wit. 

Sara Duffleld watched and wondered. Justin had 
of late seemed her especial property. Yet she had 
7i 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


heard him offer to take this strange young woman 
in his aeroplane, and he had never taken Sara. 

“ Who is she ? ” Sara asked of Bobbie, who was 
next to her. 

“ A friend of Diana’s. She has been looking after 
her sick mother for a year. Then Mrs. Dolce died, 
and Diana asked the girl here. She’s a beauty, 
isn’t she ? ” 

“Yes,” said Sara, who, in certain shimmering 
greens and blues, looked like a shining little pea¬ 
cock, an effect which was further emphasized by a 
slender feather caught by an emerald which she 
wore in her black hair. “ Where did she live before 
she came to Diana ? ” 

“ In the top of the Lane mansion.” 

“ The Lane mansion.” Sara’s tone was scornful. 
“ But it’s an awful old place-—” 

“ I fancy they didn’t have much money. But she 
doesn’t need it, not with that face.” 

“ Doris had better look out,” said Sara, unpleas¬ 
antly. 

“ Doris ? ” Bobbie’s round young face grew red. 
“ Doris is the last one, Sara, and there won’t be any 
other. You and Justin can just let that subject 
alone.” 



IN WHICH BET TINA DANCES 

Sara shrugged her shoulders, and returned to her 
survey of Bettina. “ I wonder where she got that 
stunning gown, if she’s so poor. It’s straight from 
Paris.” 

“ Oh, you women,” Bobbie exploded, and rested 
his eyes on Doris, across the table, and the thought 
of her gentleness was like soothing balm in contrast 
to Sara’s sharpness. 

After dinner Diana sang. She sat at the piano, 
which was placed just within the door of the un¬ 
lighted music room, and her guests grouped them¬ 
selves on the porch outside. 

She gave them, first, a little German serenade, 
then a gay bit of Paris music-hall frivolity, and 
finally her fingers strayed into the accompaniment 
of a song which she had written for Anthony. It 
was called “ The Wind From the Sea,” and it had a 
haunting refrain. 



7 3 
















GLORY OF YOUTH 


Diana’s thrilling voice rose and fell with the beat¬ 
ing cadences. She had sung the song for Anthony 
on the night before she sailed for Berlin, and when 
she had finished he had made once more his in¬ 
sistent plea, and she had said, “ Wait.” 

Bettina, next to Anthony, in a corner of the 
porch, had had a rapturous moment when he had 
murmured, “ How lovely you are to-night,” and had 
laid his hand over hers in the darkness. 

But as Diana sang, her joy was suddenly shadowed. 
Why was Diana singing things that seemed to drag 
the heart out of one, and why had Anthony taken 
his hand away, and why was he so still ? 

Even as she questioned the search-light from the 
little ferry that plied between the Head and the Neck 
sent a shaft of blinding radiance across the harbor. 
Bettina caught a glimpse of her lover’s face, and of 
the longing look in his eyes as they rested on 
Diana. 

Why did Anthony look at Diana like that ? 

As the insistent question obsessed her, Bettina 
was conscious of no feeling of jealousy. Her faith 
in Anthony made impossible any thought that his 
heart was not wholly hers. She merely coveted the 
look in his eyes as they rested on another woman. 

74 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


“ Of course it’s just the way she sings,” she told 
herself, restlessly. “ Why, it almost makes me cry.” 

The music ceased abruptly, and Diana sat very 
still in the darkness. 

It was Sophie’s voice which broke the silence. 

“ Betty, dear, haven’t you a song for us ? ” 

“ No,” came the response from the far corner. 
“ Dad sang. I can only dance.” 

‘‘Really?” Justin was on his feet at once. “If 
you’ll dance, we will light all the candles in the 
music room.” 

Bettina came forward. “It’s an interpretive dance. 
Can you play the ‘ Spring Song,' Diana ? ” 

Sophie, observing anxiously, wondered what fur¬ 
ther test would try her friend. But she saw no sign 
of an emotion which had to do with a night when 
Diana had waited in the moonlight for the lover 
who belonged to another woman, as with firm touch 
she played the first chords of the rippling melody. 

And Bettina danced. 

Justin, watching her, thought of lilacs blown by 
light breezes, of clouds on a May morning, of the 
drift of white petals from blossoming trees. Was 
she a woman or a wraith, this slender thing swaying 
in the candle-light ? 


75 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

Anthony watched, too, leaning back, tired, in his 
chair. 

Diana watched, and asked herself, “Can any 
man resist such youth and beauty ? ” 

And Sophie watched, and said to herself, out of 
the pity of her great and loving heart, “ She is such 
a child—and things are going to be hard for her.” 

When Bettina finished, she went straight back to 
Anthony. “ Did you like it ? ” she demanded. 

But his answer was lost in the applause which 
forced her to face the rest of them, and explain : 

“ Dad taught me. He loved beauty, and he felt 
that the dance was beauty in motion.” 

“ Sit here by me,” urged Justin, in a wheedling 
tone, and placed a chair for her. 

Bettina yearned wistfully for her corner and An¬ 
thony, but Sara was there now, and her light hard 
laugh floated out to them. 

“ I think I’m tired,” said Bettina, as she dropped 
into the chair, and Justin, the much sought after 
Justin, looked at her with chagrin. 

“ Are you tired of me?” he asked in an injured 
voice. 

She shook her head, “ No—but it y s been an ex¬ 
citing day ” 


76 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


Somewhere back in the house the telephone rang, 
and presently Delia came out for the doctor. 
“ You’re wanted at the Neck, sir,” she said; “ it’s the 
old gentleman with the pneumonia.” 

As Anthony went to answer the call, the other 
guests said their farewells. 

Justin reproached Bettina. “ You haven’t been a 
bit good to me ; if I come again will you talk to me?” 

Bettina smiled. “ I’ll let you talk to me.” 

“ When?” 

She turned to Sophie. “When shall I let him 
come ? ” 

“ He’ll see you to-morrow on Bobbie’s boat,” said 
Sophie; “ he wants us for lunch-” 

“Till to-morrow, then,” said Justin, and bent over 
her hand ; then he ran down the porch steps to 
Sara, who was waiting with her head held high. 

When Anthony came back from the telephone 
Bettina said, mournfully, “Now you must go, and I 
haven’t talked to you for a single minute.” 

He looked down into the wistful face, and hesi¬ 
tated, then he asked, “ Would you like to ride with 
me over to the Neck ? It won’t take long, but you’d 
have time to tell me all about your beautiful day.” 

She was radiant at once. 

77 



GLORT OF TOUTH 


“ Of course I can go.” 

“ Take my cloak,” said Sophie; “ the long black 
one ; it’s warmer, and the air is cool.” 

Diana, returning from a conference with Delia, 
asked, “ Where’s Betty ? ” 

“ Gone for a little ride with Anthony.” 

“ But, Sophie, what will people say—at this 
hour?” 

“ I told her to wear my black cloak,” said Sophie; 
“ it’s less conspicuous, and she was so eager.” 

Diana stood very still in the darkness. How she 
coveted the intimacy of the little car! She had rid¬ 
den so often with Anthony, and he never talked so 
well as when driving; he never revealed so fully the 
depth and fineness of his great nature. Would he 
reveal himself to Bettina? Would he? And was 
she shut out from his life forever ? 

She went up-stairs slowly. “ You wait for them, 
Sophie,” she said. “ I’m tired—it’s been a hard 
day-” 

“ Poor dear.” Sophie stood looking up at her from 
the foot of the stairs. “ I’ll come up and rub your 
head presently.” 

“ It isn’t my head,” Diana answered over her 
shoulder. 


7 * 


IN WHICH BETTINA DANCES 


“ Poor dear,” said Sophie again, softly, and saw 
with anxious eyes the droop of the ascending figure 
in the white gown. 

An hour later Bettina came. 

“We rode across the causeway, and down the 
shore drive. It was beautiful and Anthony is going 
to take me again. It’s been such a lovely, lovely 
day, Mrs. Martens.” 

All the doubts of the early evening had been 
swept away, and Bettina was triumphantly happy. 

When they reached the second floor, she stopped 
outside of Diana’s room. 

“Good-night, dear lady,” she called softly, with 
her lips against the door. 

“ Good-night,” came faintly, then after a moment, 
“ dear child.” 

But Diana did not open the door. 


99 


CHAPTER VI 


“ FOR EVERY MAN THERE IS JUST ONE WOMAN '* 
HEN Sophie, having donned a smoke-gray 



V V kimono and brushed her shining hair, went 
down to Diana, she expected to find her pensive. 
She found her, instead, with various little white jars 
and silver bottles set before her on her dressing 


table. 


“ When a woman takes to cold cream, Sophie,” 
she remarked, as her friend came in, “ it’s a deadly 
sign. It shows that she has found her first 
wrinkle.” 

“ Diana, how can you ! You know that you are 
beautiful without such aids.” 

“ When I was in Paris,” Diana continued, “ I was 
persuaded into buying these. I was told that they 
held the secret of perpetual youth.” 

“ Perpetual youth is from the heart, Diana.” 

“ Then my heart is as old as the ages.” 

Diana was gazing into the mirror, which reflected 
her tired face. 


So 


“JUST ONE WOMAN” 


“ I can’t think of anything but that child, dancing 
in the candle-light. Oh, youth, youth, Sophie; is 
there anything like it in the whole wide world ! ” 

“ Diana,” Sophie’s voice was sharpened by her 
solicitude, “ come away from that mirror.” 

Diana obediently turned her back on her dressing 
table, and presently she said, “ I wonder if it was 
wise to have her here ? ” 

“ Bettina ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

Sophie was thoughtful. 14 I’m not sure. Yet it 
seemed to me to-night that perhaps—you had been 
wise-” 

“ What made you think that ? ” 

“ Anthony’s face when you played, Diana.” 

“ Oh ! ” Diana crossed the room and dropped 
down on the rug at her friend’s feet. “ Tell me 
how he looked,” she said, softly, with her arm out- 
flung across the other’s knees. 

“ It was just in a flash that I saw his face—under 
the search-light from the ferry. It was the face of a 
man who had lost the one woman in the world for 
him, Diana.” 

“ If I could believe that,” said Diana, tensely 

14 nothing else would matter.” 

81 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ Yet, believing it, how can it be right for him to 
marry some one else ? ” 

Diana, with her chin propped between her hands, 
stared with wide eyes into space. “ It isn’t right— 
but she loves him, Sophie.” 

“Yet she’s not the one woman—oh, what a mud¬ 
dle, Diana.” 

“ What a muddle,” and for a time they sat in si¬ 
lence. 

Then Sophie said, “ Perhaps it’s because I was 
so happy in my marriage—that I can see so clearly. 
I’ve worked it out this way, dearest, dear—that in all 
the world there’s just one woman for one man. If 
he meets and marries her, no matter how hard their 
life may be, they will be drawn together, not 
separated, by the hardness; no matter how the 
world may use them, they will cling together against 
the world. But when a man marries the wrong 
woman, he goes through life a half-man, crippled in 
mind and spirit, because of his mistake. Sometimes 
the man finds the one woman in a second marriage; 
sometimes he finds her too late ; sometimes he is too 
blind to know that she is the one woman, and he lets 
her go, to discover afterward that no other can fill 
his life. That’s the pity of it. If Anthony marries 
82 


“JUST ONE WOMAN ” 


Bettina, she will know some day—that she is—the 
wrong woman-” 

Diana rose and moved restlessly about the room. 
“ But she’s so slim and white and young—and no 
man can resist that sort of thing long. She has 
youth to give him, Sophie, and I, why, soon I’ll be 
middle-aged.” 

“ You—oh, Diana-” 

Diana’s laugh had a sob in it. “ Well, I shall be.” 

“ You’ll never be anything but lovely—when 
you’re an old lady you’ll be stately and distinguished, 
and your eyes will shine like stars, and men will still 
fall in love with you-” 

“ Oh, Sophie, you’re such a comfort ——” 

The next morning Delia sent up three breakfasts 
on trays. 

" If it wasn’t for that pretty child,” she said to lit¬ 
tle Jane Trefry, who helped her in the kitchen, 
“ there wouldn’t be any satisfaction in getting things 
ready. Miss Sophie has learned foreign ways and 
wants rolls and coffee, and Miss Diana wants grape 
fruit. I don’t know what’s the matter with her ap¬ 
petite ; she hasn’t eaten enough for a bird since she 
came, and yet that first night she said to me, 4 Oh, 
83 




GLORT OF TOUTH 


Delia, I’m just dying for some of your good New 
England cooking !’ ” 

“ Maybe she’s in love,” said little Jane, who was 
romantic. 

Delia turned her omelette deftly. “ Of course she 
is. Everybody knows she just about worships Dr. 
Blake, only she won’t marry him till she gets good 
und ready. That’s the house he’s building for her 
‘—up the road, with the red-tiled roof and the wide 
stone porches. He had the window of her room 
toward Minot’s, so that the light could say, * I love 
you ’ to her at night.” 

“ She’d better look out,” stated little Jane, with 
provincial frankness ; “ if she waits too long he’ll be 
finding some one else to say 4 1 love you ’ to.” 

“ You keep your mind on that toast,” Delia was 
dishing up the omelette, “ and don’t you forget that 
Miss Diana isn’t the kind that a man goes back on. 
She could have had a dozen richer men than the 
doctor. But she didn’t want them, and maybe she 
doesn’t want him, but don’t you get it into your head 
that he wants anybody else.” 

Little Jane sniffed. “ You can’t tell about men,” 
she said, as she went out of the door with Bettina’s 
tray. 


84 


“JUST ONE WOMAN ” 


Bettina, sitting up in bed, welcomed little Jane 
with enthusiasm. She ate everything from straw¬ 
berries to omelette with a hearty appetite, then she 
lay comfortably, looking out toward the eastern 
horizon where the smoky streak of a steamer showed 
faintly. 

Presently Sophie came in with a gown of white 
serge—of simple lines, with wide collar and cuffs of 
sheer embroidered muslin. “ Diana insisted that 
I should get some white things in Paris,” she said, 
as she laid it over a chair. “ She hoped that I might 
be induced to dress in something besides black, but 
I can’t, and so I am sure that you will be willing to 
wear these out for me, my dear.” 

Bettina put one bare foot on the floor, then the 
other, then she fluttered across the room like a white 
butterfly and embraced Mrs. Martens. 

“ It’s lovely, only it doesn’t seem quite right for 
me to take everything.” 

“It is right. They would lie in my trunks 
until they were out of fashion. There’s a white 
felt hat that goes with this, and a long white 
coat, and Diana is going to take you over to town 
this morning to get white shoes and gloves and a 
veil.' 


85 


GLORr OF YOUTH 

“ I thought we were to lunch on Bobbie Tucker’s 
yacht.” 

“ We were—but Bobbie has just telephoned that 
his yacht has to go to the yard for repairs—some¬ 
thing happened last night—so Justin will take us for 
a ride.” 

“ Oh,” said Bettina. “ Mr. Ford ?” 

“Yes. Justin has put his car at our disposal. 
He’ll drive us to-day, but when he can’t there’s the 
chauffeur—it’s very kind of him.” 

“ He’s awfully good looking,” said Bettina in a 
cool little voice, “ but don’t you think he’s terribly 
conceited, Mrs. Martens ? ” 

Sophie nodded. “ He’s been spoiled. But bacV 
of it all he’s a man. His lightness is on the surface. 
I know, for he was in Berlin when my husband was 
living. I saw the other side then. He was poor ; it 
was before he came so unexpectedly into his uncle’s 
money. You know the old man and his son were 
drowned in a dreadful accident. Justin was study¬ 
ing aviation when we first knew him. He lived in 
shabby rooms, and ate at shabby little places, and 
he used to come in the afternoons to call on me, and 
I’d fill him up with thick bread and butter and coffee, 
and we’d talk for hours of America, He was lonely 
86 


“JUST ONE WOMAN” 

poor lad, and I was like a big sister. I shall nevet 
forget one bitter cold afternoon, when he came in 
with his hands all red and rough, and with a hoarse 
cough, and I had the maid bring him a bowl of soup 
hot from the kitchen, and he tried to make a joke of 
it, but his voice broke, and presently he said, ‘ Dear 
big sister, some day I can thank you, but not now.’ 

“ And when my husband died,” she went on, 
softly, “ he did thank me in a most generous way. 
He had just received his fortune when he heard of 
my—trouble. He sent a wonderful cross to mark 
where my husband sleeps—and I could have afforded 
only a little stone—and there are flowers every week, 
even when I am far away, and there will always be 
flowers because of his great generosity.” 

Here was a background for the light-hearted young 
Justin which appealed to Bettina’s imagination. 
“ Why, how lovely,” she said with her eyes shining; 
“he didn’t seem like that to me. He seemed so— 
shallow.” 

“ But he isn’t,” Sophie defended ; “ if it had not 
been for him and for Diana I should have lost heart 
many times—the world knows Justin as a rich young 
man, ready for a good time, but I know him as the 
Knight of the Tender Heart” 

87 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


44 How old is he ? ” 

44 Twenty-six. I didn’t realize until I reached here 
that he was flying again. He does such dangerous 
things. I saw the aeroplane yesterday morning, and 
found out afterward that he was up—and since then 
my heart seems to stop every time I think of him in 
the air-” 

With all the optimism of youth, Bettina tried to 
reassure her. 

44 He said last night that he was very careful. He 
wants to take me up.” 

44 Oh, don’t ever do anything so dreadful.” 

44 1 couldn’t if I wanted to. Anthony made me 
promise last night that I wouldn’t-” 

She said it with a comfortable sense of her lover’s 
care for her; 44 I’d rather ride any day with Anthony 
in his little car.” 

44 My dear,” Sophie said with some hesitation, 44 I’m 
going to suggest that except to Diana and myself, 
you try not to seem too much interested in—your 
doctor—the world might suspect—and you don’t 
want to announce your engagement yet, Diana tells 
me-” 

Bettina shrugged her white shoulders. 44 1 don’t 
care if everybody knows,” she said; 44 but Diana 
88 


“JUST ONE WOMAN ” 


thought that Anthony’s friends might like to get ac¬ 
quainted with me first. But if you could know what 
he’s been to me, Mrs. Martens—why, when I waked 
this morning it seemed like a dream to think that I 
wasn’t in the top floor of the old Lane house, with 
Miss Matthews making her breakfast coffee over an 
alcohol stove, and a little impatient because I hadn’t 
the toast ready, and with the prospect ahead of me 
of another lonely day, when I should try to read and 
try not to think, and miss mother until I nearly died. 

“ Do you wonder that I love him ? ” She came up 
to Mrs. Martens and put her hands on her shoulders. 
“ He’s so wonderful and good—and he loves me-” 

Sophie could not meet the frank young eyes. 
“ It’s nice that you feel that way,” she said, “ and I 
hope you don’t mind what I said—it was only that it 
might save you some future—embarrassment.” 

“ I’ll be careful,” said Bettina, “ only I’m perfectly 
sure that everybody will know every time I look at 
Anthony that he’s the one man in the world for me. 
You can’t imagine how uninteresting other men seem 
beside him—and then his manner, isn’t it lovely and 
protecting and—sure ? ” 

Sophie had a sudden sense of the comedy which 
was intermingled with the tragic of the situation. 

89 


GLOPT OF YOUTH 


Diana and Bettina each harped incessantly on one 
string, “ Anthony, Anthony, Anthony,” and she 
must play listener to their ecstatic songs of praise, 
During the trip to town, Bettina sat beside Justin. 
“ Since Bobbie’s yacht is out of commission,” ssug- 
gested Justin, “why not extend our ride up the 
North Shore road ? There’s a war-ship anchored just 
off Beverly, and a tea room where we can have 
lunch.” 

“ I must stop at the sanatorium first,” said Diana. 
“ Anthony has a patient there who is to be operated 
□n c She’s a little young thing, and she’s afraid, and 
I want to take her some lilacs. I told Jane to pick 
some and have them ready when we returned, so 
perhaps you’d better go first to our house, and then 

to the sanatorium, then we can do as we please-” 

“A sanatorium,” said Justin to Bettina, “always 
used to suggest vague horrors. But Dr. Anthony’s 
doesn’t. He has a wonderful way with his patients, 
puts their hands to work, because it’s their minds 
that make them sick ; they weave and make pottery. 
The last time I was there an anxious-eyed, beauti¬ 
fully-gowned woman was working on a rug, with 
three rabbits as a design. She was having trouble 
with the bunnies’ ears when Dr. Blake came up. 

90 


“JUST ONE WOMAN” 

M 1 1 simply can’t do it, doctor,’ she said, and began 
to cry. 

“ Anthony stood very still for a moment, then in 
his quiet, strong voice, he said, ‘ Dear lady, it must 
be done—for your soul’s sake.’ 

“ She looked up at him in a startled way. * Why 
my soul ? ’ she asked. ‘ It’s my body that’s sick.’ 

“ He shook his head. ‘ It’s deeper than that,’ he 
answered ; * you’ve lost your grip because life has 
never meant labor to you. The people who work 
have healthy minds and healthy bodies. Those 
who do not, waver between weakness and wicked¬ 
ness. That’s what’s the matter with society to-day 
—that’s what’s the matter with you. . You must 
finish your bunnies’ ears, therefore, for the sake of 
your soul—your body will respond-’ 

“ She went back to her loom,” Justin continued, 
“ with a different look on her face. The lines were 
smoothed out from her forehead. Neither of them 
had seemed to notice that I was there. It was a 
psychological morh'ent when the doctor had to speak, 
and it was wonderful to hear him talk like that.” 

Bettina’s puzzled eyes met his. “ Oh, but do you 
think that people have to work to be happy ? ” she 
said. “ I hate work. I like to be warm and com- 
91 


GLORY OF YOUTH 

fortable, and have pretty clothes, and—every¬ 
thing” 

44 Of course you do,” said Justin, responding to 
her mood, lightly, 44 but you don’t want to get Dr. 
Blake after you-—he preaches a gospel of endeavor.” 

44 Oh ! ” There was a note of dismay in Bettina’s 
voice. 44 But not all of us can be bees. Some of us 
must be the butterflies.” 

Justin spoke, somewhat seriously: 44 I’ve been a 
butterfly for three years, and I give you my word 
I’m not getting much out of it. Seeing Mrs. Martens 
has brought back the days when I worked over there 
in Germany to get the money to finish my studies. 
Has she told you how I used to go to her and drink 
her delicious coffee and eat thick bread and butter, 
and bask in her sympathy until I got the courage to 
go on again ? Yet I felt all the time that I was get¬ 
ting somewhere, and here I’m stagnating-” 

Bettina settled herself back comfortably in her 
cushioned seat. 44 Well, I don’t think it’s anything 
to worry about. It seems perfectly wonderful to me 
not to have anything to do—if I had mother back,” 
her voice trembled, 44 1 wouldn’t care how much I 
had to work for her—but after she—left me, every¬ 
thing seemed so—so sordid, and hard—and — 
92 



“JUST ONE WOMAN” 

Oh, I hated it—and then-” She drew herself up 

sharply. 

“ Then-? ” Justin prompted her 

“ Diana came,” she went on, after a moment’s 
hesitation, “ and now everything will be different.” 

Justin had a baffled sense of some mystery from 
the solution of which he was shut out, but he merely 
said, heartily, “ I hope you’ll stay forever,” and felt 
his heart leap as the ends of her white veil fluttered 
against his lips. 


CHAPTER VII 


HARBOR LIGHT 


A NTHONY’S sanatorium was an enlargement 
of an old mansion which had belonged to his 
grandfather. The wide green lawns swept down to 
the sea. There was an orchard to the left of the 
house, and to the right a rose garden, and the barn 
had been turned into a weaving room. 

Within the house everything was restful and har¬ 
monious. Money had been spent without stint to 
produce beauty in its most subtle expression; each 
window framed a view of sea or sky or of sun- 
lighted trees; the walls, the hangings, the rugs were 
of that ashes-of-rose tint which give light to an in¬ 
terior without glare. 

Diana, entering, with her arms full of lilacs, was 
met by a nurse. 

“ Dr. Blake wants you at once,” she said ; “ he’s 
in his office.” 

“ Take these, Betty.” Diana thrust the lilacs into 
the girl’s arms. “ Perhaps you’d better go back 

94 


HARBOR LIGHT 

and sit in the car with Justin and Sophie, or you can 
wait in the reception room. I won’t be long.” 

But she was longer than she had anticipated. The 
seconds lengthened into minutes, and the minutes 
in quarters and into half hours. Justin came in 
once and found Bettina sitting stiffly on the edge of 
a chair with the flowers in her arms 

“ Come out and we’ll take a spin across the cause¬ 
way, while we wait,” he said. 

Bettina shook her head. “ Diana said she wouldn’t 
be long. I don’t see what’s keeping her.” 

“ There’s that operation this morning, you know, 
on the girl with appendicitis. And Diana has al¬ 
ways been a great help with Anthony’s patients. He 
told me that when she went to Europe her loss was 
felt deeply here-” 

“ But the girl—with appendicitis ? ” Bettina’s 
face was white. “ Is she afraid-? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Oh, I should be afraid. I—I don’t see how An¬ 
thony can do it.” 

“ Do what ?” 

“ Operate on such a little scared thing- n She 

was shivering. 

‘‘You mustn’t stay here,” Justin insisted ; “ you’ll 

95 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


get nervous, you know, and all that; you really 
mustn’t stay—you weren’t made to have your mind 
on such things.” 

“ But Diana’s mind is on them.” 

“ Diana is—different.” 

That Diana was different was being demonstrated 
at that very moment in an upper room, where a lit¬ 
tle white slip of a girl had welcomed her with a 
wailing cry—“ I’m afraid.” 

“ My dear,” Diana bent over the bed, “ there’s 
nothing to be afraid of, not with your doctor.” 

“ But—if I should die.” 

“ You’re not going to die.” 

“ But how do you know? ” 

“ Because your good doctor has said so—and he 
knows-” 

“ But sometimes people do—die.” 

Diana signed to the nurse to go out, and then she 
knelt by the bed. 

“ Dear child,” she said, softly, “ life is such a short 
journey for all of us, and beyond is a wonder land. 
When I was a little girl I used to wish that I might 
die, and I thought that my lonely little soul might 
sail and sail in a silver boat until I came to the 
shores of that far country where I should find my 
96 


HARBOR LIGHT 


father and mother waiting. I was such a dreary lit¬ 
tle orphan, and I wanted love. And I knew that in 
that country Love waited for me—as it is waiting for 
you. Would it be so hard to go after all the pain, 
if Love willed it so ? ” 

“ I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

“ Then think of it now. But most of all think of 
life, and of what it will mean to you when wise Dr. 
Blake has made you well. And think of this, too, that 
when you wake up from your long sleep there will be 
a bunch of white lilacs right here on this little table— 
to welcome you back to the world—will you promise 
to think of the white lilacs until you go to sleep ? ” 
She was talking against time, trying to get the 
tense look out of the girl’s eyes. And now she was 
rewarded by the lowered lids and the relaxing of the 
little figure in her arms. 

“ I am going to think of the lilacs,” the girl whis¬ 
pered. “ Are you very sure they will be there ? ” 

“ Very sure, dear.” 

“Then I’m ready-” 

Diana, going out, met Anthony. 

“ She’s ail right,” she said. “ I’m glad you had 


me come. 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“She confided in me at once. She just needed 
her mind diverted, and I turned it on white lilacs. I 
will have a bunch for her when she wakes, and she 
is going to think of them. Is there really any 
danger, Anthony ?” 

“ Scarcely any—and there was no choice. She 
couldn’t live without it.” 

“ How wonderful that you can save life, Anthony.” 

“In saving others I save myself, Diana. It has 
kept me in these later years from—chaos-” 

Something in his voice made Diana say, quickly, 
“Betty is down-stairs. Poor child, she has waited 
for a long time. Can you come down ? ” 

“ No. She ought not to be here, Diana.” 

“ She would come. I think she hoped to see you. 
And why shouldn’t she come? Your work is here.” 

“ She isn’t fitted for it. She is bom for the bright¬ 
ness of life, not for its shadows. I fancy if she 
could see me in my operating outfit that she’d look 
upon me as something between a brute and a 
butcher. Poor child ! ” His laugh was grim. 

Diana’s progress down the corridor partook of the 
nature of an ovation. From one room to another 
she went, and was welcomed by patients, many of 
whom made periodical visits to “Harbor Light”— 
98 


HARBOR LIGHT 


which was the picturesque name Anthony had 
given his house because, as he explained, it was 
to be a beacon to such derelicts as drifted there. 
There were men and women of wealth who came to 
be fortified for another season of excitement, and 
there were men and women to whom the doctor 
gave lodging and his skill without financial recom¬ 
pense. But no one knew to whom such charity 
was extended, and all were equal in care and treat 
ment. 

Most of the nurses, too, had been there long 
enough to know the inspiration and uplift which 
was brought by the gracious lady in the white gown. 

When the patients asked, “Who is she?” the 
reply was whispered, “ Diana Gregory. Every¬ 
body hopes she’ll marry the doctor. He’s dead in 
love with her.” 

At last Diana slipped away, promising to come 
again soon to look at the weaving, to see the new 
pottery — 

“ But not now,” she insisted, brightly ; “ there’s 
some one waiting for me down-stairs.” 

She found Bettina still sitting stiffly on the edge of 
the chair. She had sent Justin back to Sophie, and 
a nurse had taken away the lilacs. All the glory 
99 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


had gone out of her morning when Anthony had 
asked for Diana. 

“ Why didn’t he want me?” she demanded, when 
Diana came toward her with an eager apology. 
“ Why didn’t Anthony want me ? ” 

“My dear, he always wants you, but there’s an 
operation on now.” 

“ On that girl with appendicitis ? ” 

" Yes.” 

“ Oh, how can he do it, Diana ? I think it's 

dreadful—to—to hurt people-” 

“ He doesn’t hurt them, dear.” 

“ But it’s horrid. I—I hate it.” 

“ Betty! ” 

“ I—I shan’t ever let him talk about it to me.” 
The child’s breath was coming quickly. “ Never— 
never—never, when we are married—and I’m going 

to make him give it up-” 

“Give it up?” Diana’s voice rang clear and 
sharp. “ Give what up ? ” 

“ His surgery. I didn’t mind the other—when he 
came to mother and gave her medicine in bottles— 

but this is different, and the women here- 

Why, Diana, some of them looked in at the door, 
and they were—freaks.” 


IOO 





HARBOR LIGHT 


“ They’re sick, dear.” 

“ I don’t like sick things. I loved mother, and I 
could stand it, but Anthony mustn’t let me see 
such people—not now, so soon after-! ” 

“ Hush, Betty! Oh, you shouldn’t have come 
in. We’ll go now and have a long ride with Justin, 
and to-night you’ll see Anthony—and some day 
you’ll realize what a great man he is.” 

“ I know he’s a great surgeon, and, of course, I’ll 
have to put up with it—but I shall hate it just the 
same, Diana.” 

Put up with it—oh, Diana! For years she had 
urged him toward this end, that he might stand at 
the head of that profession which combats death 
with a flaming sword. For years she had watched 
him struggle upward, and had gloried, not only in 
his fame, but in his power of healing. 

Together the two women went down the path. 

“ Are you tired of waiting ? ” Diana asked as 
they came up to the car. 

“Justin took me for a little ride,” said Sophie, 
“ and I sat in front with him. We tried to get 
Bettina to go, but she wouldn’t. She thought she 
ought to wait for you.” 

“ I wish I hadn’t waited,” said Bettina, as Justin 

IOI 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


helped her in. “ I—I don t like sick people, and I 
hate that queer smell-” 

“ Ether,” said Justin, promptly; “it’s because of 
the operation.” 

He leaned forward, and the car shot out toward 
the causeway. The way led first through a street 
overarched with elms ; beyond the elms there was a 
vista of sea and sky. A fragrant wind blew from the 
blossoming trees, and swept Bettina’s veil away from 
her face so that it billowed above her hat like the 
wings of some great bird. 

The hospital was behind; ahead was the long 
white road. Justin was smiling down into her eyes. 
For the first time she noticed his look of joyous 
youth. 

“ I begin to understand why it is that you fly,” she 
said, as they came out upon the causeway and saw 
the stretch of harbor beyond. 

-Why?” 

“ Because you feel that you must get up high 
enough to flap your wings.” 

“ I could do that on a barn-yard fence, couldn’t I—■ 
like Chantecler, and make the sun rise ? ” 

M You could never get up early enough.” 

44 1 flew past your window at six.” 


102 


HARBOR LIGHT 


“ How did you know it was my window?” 

Justin glanced down at her. Her soft white hat 
was pulled low, so that it almost hid her eyes, but 
through the veil he could see that they were softly 
shining. Her lips were red, and her cheeks touched 
by the wind with vivid color. 

“I knew—because my heart told me,” he said, 
ardently. 

But she did not blush. ‘‘You knew it because 
you know which is Diana’s guest room,” she stated. 

“ Were you awake ? ” 

“ No. I am never awake at six—I love to be lazy.” 

“ Don’t tell that to Dr, Anthony or he’ll set you 
to weaving. You know what I told you; he said 
that idleness leads to weakness or wickedness —— 

“I haven’t had time to see what it leads to,” 
Bettina informed him. “ I’ve always been so busy. 
I’m going to play for a while.” 

“ Will you play with me? ” Justin challenged her. 

Shining eyes met shining eyes—youth responded 
to youth. 

“It will be glorious,” said Bettina, meeting his 
mood. 

They laughed together, the care-free laughter of 
their golden age. Diana, catching the echo of it, 
103 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


waked from a reverie which had to do with Anthony 
back there in a big, bare room, contending with skil¬ 
ful and steady hands against the evil forces which 
sought to destroy; saving a life, giving to a little 
unknown girl a future of hope and of health. 

Every breath that she had drawn since she had left 
him had been a prayer that his hand might not fail, 
that his nerves might be like steel—she felt as if her 
heart were beating with his to uphold him, as if she 
could bear him on the wings of love and be his talis¬ 
man against harm. 

Yet in front of her was the girl he was to marry, 
laughing lightly up into the eyes of a boy, uncon¬ 
scious of her lover’s need, unconscious of everything 
except that she was young and free from care—and 
that the morning world was beautiful 1 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 

W HEN the doctor came that night he was tired. 

The day had been a hard one, and he felt 
weighed down by the woes of those weak folk who 
bore so heavily on his strength. 

He found Bettina alone. Diana and Sophie had 
gone to play bridge across the harbor, and only 
Delia in the garden and Peter Pan on the porch re¬ 
mained for chaperonage. 

Bettina greeted her betrothed soberly, and held up 
her face to be kissed. “ I said things about you 
yesterday,” she confessed, as she and Anthony set¬ 
tled themselves on the porch where they could 
look out upon the lights. “ I said things about you 
to Diana, and afterward we went to the Pirate House 

with Justin Ford for lunch, and I flirted with him-” 

“ What did you say about me ? 99 
44 That I hated your surgery—that it seemed dread¬ 
ful ” 

He had been smiling, but he grew grave at once 

log 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


“You can’t separate me from my work, child; 
you must take us together.” 

“ Of course ; I know that now. Diana was talk¬ 
ing to me after we came home from our ride. She 
told me some of the wonderful things you had done, 
and of how people almost said their prayers to you.” 

“ Not quite that—but it’s my reward that so many 
of my patients are my friends because I have helped 
them.” 

“ And Diana said that if I loved you I’d be glad— 
to let you—cut people up.” 

In spite of himself he laughed. She was irresistible. 

“ I shan’t exact that of you. But at least you must 
not worry.” 

“ And I won’t have to live there ? ” anxiously. 

“Where?” 

“ At the sanatorium ? ” 

“ Of course not. You’ll live over there.” 

He pointed to a jutting rock on the top of which a 
big house loomed white in the moonlight. 

“There? Oh, I’d love to go over it. Couldn’t 
we, now?” 

He hesitated, “ Perhaps it would be better to 
wait till there are others.” Then, seeing her disap¬ 
pointment, he agreed. “ Well, if Delia will come too. ,! 

106 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 


“ Delia ? ” 

“To open the rooms.” He had not the heart to 
tell her how sharp were the tongues of the gossips of 
the little town. 

So Delia, a little later, limped after them with 
Peter following, confidently. 

“And you flirted with Justin,” Anthony remarked 
on the way over. 

“Yes. In the little tea room. Diana and Mrs. 
Martens sat at one table, and Mr. Ford and I at the 

other—and he was so funny—and I-Well, any 

one looking on might have thought I was in earnest.” 

“ What did Diana think ? ” 

“ Oh, she knows how I feel about you:-” 

“ And Justin, does he know ? ” 

“ Of course not. It’s not announced, you know.” 

“ But if he should take you in earnest.” 

“ Silly,” Bettina tucked her hand in his arm, “ no¬ 
body takes me in earnest—but you-” 

Her hesitation was charming, but he did not 
respond ardently, and perhaps she missed some¬ 
thing in his manner, for presently she asked, “ Are 
you jealous ? ” 

“ My dear, no. Children must play-” 

She sighed a little. “Am I such a child ? M 

107 





GLORT OF YOUTH 


He laughed again. 41 Of course, you're a mere 
baby—but a dear baby, Betty mine." 

And with that she was content. 

The big house was not furnished. 

44 1 am going to put in the things which were in 
the old house before I turned it into a sanatorium. 
My grandfather was a sea captain, and I have a 
model of a ship carved by one of his sailors out of 
soup bones, and there are two great china tureens in 
the shape of swans, and some ivories and queer em¬ 
broidered screens that I wouldn’t take anything for. 
It’s a sort of jumble for a modern residence, but I 
like it. And I have had the house built in a style 
which will be in keeping with my belongings. It’s 
rocky and rugged and there’s a fireplace in every 
room. I like to burn logs for cheerfulness even when 
there’s a furnace—and to come home to the light of 
them on winter nights.’’ 

44 1 love pretty new things,’’ Bettina informed him. 
44 May I have all white for my room ? With ivory 
things on my dresser with silver monograms, and— 
white fur rugs ? ” 

Her room 1 

It came to Anthony, with the force of a blow, that 
there was no room in the big house for Bettina. 

108 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 


Why, that room was Diana’s—that room which 
looked out on Minot’s. He had thought of her as 
inhabiting it. He had never meant that the great 
light should say, “ I love you,” to Bettina. 

For months, even when he felt that he had lost 
Diana, her spirit had seemed to dwell in the place he 
had planned for her. Whenever he had entered her 
room it had not seemed bare, for his imagination 
had filled it with the furniture which had been his 
grandmother’s wedding set—the big canopied bed, 
the winged chair on the hearth, the quaint lyre- 
legged sewing table by the window. And on the 
other side of the hearth would be another chair—his 
own. And in that room he had seen Diana, his 
bride, in the moonlight; his wife, waiting in the 
winged chair to welcome him after a weary day. 

And now this pretty child—and Diana banished ? 
What had he done ? What dreadful thing had he 
done? 

Bettina, unconscious, said pleasant things about 
the living-room, the library, the great hall, the broad 
stairway — 

As yet there was no connection for lighting, so 
they carried candles, Anthony holding one aloft for 
himself and Bettina, and Delia coming after with a 
109 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


taper. Peter, like a flash of flame, slipped ahead of 
Delia and was lost in the shadows. 

They went into every room on the second floor 
before they entered the one which faced Minot’s. To 
him it was the Holy of Holies, but Bettina stepped in 
boldly. 

It was a great high-ceiled chamber with its 
distant corners made darker by the moonlight. 
Through the wide window which faced the south 
was a vast expanse of sky and sea. Anthony’s 
house stood near the end of the harbor, so that 
across the causeway was the open water, a stretch of 
limitless blue. 

Bettina shivered. “ It's so big and dark.” 

“ When it’s furnished and the lights are on it will 
seem different.” 

Delia, arriving at that moment, added her contri¬ 
bution to the conversation. 

“ Miss Diana came over yesterday. Them’s her 
white lilacs on the shelf.” 

The doctor held his candle higher. The flowers, 
in a great bowl of gray pottery, showed ghostly out¬ 
lines beneath the flickering flame. To Anthony the 
air seemed thick and faint with their perfume. 

“ Let us go,” he said to Bettina, quickly, and with 
no 




THE EMPTT HOUSE 

his hand on her arm he led her away and shut the 
door. 

Diana and Sophie, coming home at half-past ten, 
found the lovers on the porch, and the four talked 
together until Anthony said “ Good-bye.’ ’ 

He made a professional call in a side street 
and found himself, afterward, turning toward the 
big empty house on the rocks. In that south room 
Diana’s lilacs were wasting their sweetness, and he 
coveted the subtle suggestion they gave of her 
presence there. 

Diana, helping Delia to lock up, asked, “ Where’s 
Peter?” 

“ Goodness knows,” said Delia ; “ he followed me 
when we went over to the doctor’s house, and I ain’t 
seen him since.” 

Diana turned and looked at her. “ The doctor’s 
house ? Who went ? ” 

“Dr. Anthony and Miss Betty and me. They 
asked me. She hadn’t ever seen it, and he wanted 
to show it to her.” 

Diana felt her heart stand still. 

" Did you go—into every room, Delia ? ” 

“ Yes” 


hi 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


So he had taken little Betty there. They had entered 
that room to which, that very morning, she had carried 
white lilacs, moved by some impulse to call it her own 
until some one else should have the right to claim it. 

“ I'll look up Peter,” she told Delia, hastily. 

You needn’t wait for me.” 

The town clock struck half-past eleven as she went 
through the garden—wraith-like in her long white 
wrap. 

“ Peter,” she called softly, “ Peter, Peter.” 

Following the path over the rocks, she came at 
last to the empty house. 

A faint mew sounded from within. She turned 
the knob, and found the door unlocked. « Peter,”' 
she called again, and the big cat came forth, his tail 
waving like a plume. 

Diana, facing the darkness of the great hall, felt 
impelled to enter, to slip silently up the stairs, to 
stand on the threshold of the moonlighted chamber, 
whence came the perfume of white lilacs. 

And as she stood there, she saw, with a sudden 
leap of the heart, that Anthony was before hen 
Silhouetted against the wide space of the open win¬ 
dow he was looking out at the flashing light. 

She put her hand to her throat. She stepped back 
112 


THE EMPTY HOUSE 


as if to escape. Then, swayed by an impulse which 
cast prudence to the winds, she spoke his name. 

“ Anthony ! ” 

“ Diana 1 ” 

He had turned from the window, and was peering 
through the dimness. He came toward her. She 
held out her hands to keep him back. 

“ Oh, please—no—no-” 

But he took her in his arms. 

When he let her go his face was white. 

“ There is no excuse for me," he said. “ I know 
that. I’ve given my word of honor to that little 
child—who trusts me. Yet—this room belongs to 
you. Before you came to-night I touched the lilacs 
with my lips, and it seemed to me as if they were 
your lips—that I touched. And when I turned and 
saw you—white—like a bride—on the threshold—it 
was as I had seen you, night after night—in my 
dreams. You belong here and no other, Diana ! ” 
What she said in reply Diana could never remem¬ 
ber with any great distinctness. She only knew that 
she was trying to hold on as best she could to the 
best that was within her. Anthony in this moment 
of weakness was hers. Whatever she did now 
would bring him to her or send him away—perhaps 
Ii3 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


forever. She struggled to think dearly—to raise 
some barrier between his awakened passion and her 
own wild desire to take what the gods had placed 
within easy reach of her hand. 

Suddenly she found herself speaking. Her throat 
was dry and she was shaking from head to foot. 
But she was telling him that she had tried to use 
common sense. That she had asked Bettina to come 
to her hoping that there might be found some way 
out. But there wasn't any way out, not any honor¬ 
able way. And she didn’t dare play Fate any longer. 
Not after to-night. Not after— to-night . 

Her voice broke. 

“ Diana—dear girl-” 

He put both of his strong hands on her shoulders, 
and so they faced each other in the illumined night. 

“For just one little moment,” he said, “we will 
have the truth. If I had not asked Betty you would 
have married me, Diana ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ If there is any honorable way in which I can re¬ 
lease myself, will you marry me now ? ” 

She had a sudden vision of the slender, lonelv 
child in shabby black as she had first seen her in the 
shadowy room. 

114 



THE EMPTY HOUSE 


“ No, oh, no ,” she whispered. 

“ Why not?” 

“ Because there isn’t any honorable way ; because 
I should feel little and mean; because it would make 
me think less—of you, Anthony.” 

Her eyes met his steadily. She was as pale as the 
spectral lilacs, whose perfume floated about them. 
But her nervous fears were gone. She knew now 
that they would triumph—she and Anthony—that 
they were not to leave the heights. 

When at last he spoke, it was in a moved voice. 
“ If you were less than you are I should not love you 
so much. You know that, Diana?” 

“Yes, I know-” 

“ In the years to come, what you have been to me 
will be my light—in the darkness-” 

Unable to speak, she held out her hands to him. 
He took them, and bent his head. 

With a little murmured cry she released herself, 
and flitted away into the engulfing darkness. The 
echoes of her swift descent came whispering up the 
stairs ; in the distance a door was shut. The empti¬ 
ness of the unfinished house seemed symbolic of the 
future which stretched before him 



CHAPTER IX 


THE GOLDEN AGE 

J USTIN FORD had not been unsuccessful with 
women. Many of them had liked him, and 
might have loved him if he had cared to make them, 
but until he met Bettina Dolce he had not cared. 

There was about Bettina, however, a certain re¬ 
moteness which puzzled him. She responded to his 
advances with girlish gayety, but her cool sweet 
glance held no hint of self-consciousness, and beyond 
a certain point of light flirtation he had, as yet, dared 
not go. 

He pondered these things one morning as he 
worked on his delicate machine in the great shed 
with its wide opening toward the water. 

Why had little Bettina erected a barrier ? She 
knew nothing of the arts of sophisticated coquetry, 
so he absolved her from any intention to rouse his 
interest. Was she unawakened? Was there an¬ 
other man ? 

He laid down his pipe to think out that last start 
116 


THE GOLDEN AGE 


ling proposition. There had been no men in hte* 
secluded life. 

Except Anthony Blake ! Gracious Peter, could it 
be Anthony ? There came to Justin, suddenly, a 
vision of Bettina in the shadowy room. Of her child¬ 
ish dependence upon the doctor, of her little claims 
of intimacy, her evident preference for the older 
man’s society, her vehement denial the night of the 
dinner that there could be anything but friendship 
between Anthony and Diana. 

Putting, thus, two and two together, he decided 
that Bettina believed herself in love with Anthony. 
Yes, that was it—and Anthony—well, for Anthony 
there was just Diana ! 

There you had it, and the only way to save Bet¬ 
tina and, incidentally, himself from heartbreak was to 
take things into his own hands, and play Prince to 
this exquisite Cinderella. 

Unconsciously his mind assumed a sort of King 
Cophetua attitude toward the charming Beggar 
Maid. He found himself humming: 

“ In robe and crown the king stept down, 

To meet and greet her on her way-” 

Justin knocked the ashes out of his pipe and put it 
117 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


in his pocket. There was no time like the present, 
and he at once went toward Diana's, “ clothed all in 
leather," like the old man in the nursery rhyme. 

He found Bettina in the garden. She wore a 
strong little suit of blue serge with a crimson silk 
scarf knotted under her sailor collar. On her fair 
head was a shady hat. She stood by the stone wall 
looking expectantly down the road. But it was not 
Justin whom she expected, although she smiled at 
him, and gave him her hand. 

“ Did you meet Miss Matthews ? " she inquired. 

“ Miss Matthews ? ” 

“ You know. You met her the first time you saw 
me." 

“ I can only remember that time that I met—you.* 

She laughed. “ How nicely you say it." 

“ But you do not take me seriously." 

“ Does anybody take you seriously ? " 

“ Kind people do." 

" And I’m not kind ? " 

“ Not to me—you just give me remnants and 
fragments of your time. I have hardly seen you for 
three days." 

“ Nobody has seen me," she informed him. “ I’ve 
been doing all sorts of stunts in the shops I was ip 
118 


THE GOLDEN AGE 


town yesterday with Mrs. Martens, and you should 
see my hats-” 

“I’d rather see your hair. Do you know how 

lovely it is with the sunshine on it-” 

“ Silly—wait till you see my dream of a picture 
hat—with yellow roses—to be worn with a shadow 
lace robe over a primrose slip. ,> 

“ White and gold—Sophie was foxy to choose 
that,” he said. 

“ Foxy—why ? ” * 

“Oh, the pinks and blues don't suit you. You 
need the unusual tints. That amethyst frock you 
had on the other night fitted in with the twilight, and 
the old garden and the lilacs; and in the yellow and 
white you’ll be a primrose, flashing in the sun.” 

“ Mrs. Martens has the most wonderful taste,” she 
informed him. “ There’s a tea-gown of white crape 
with a little lace wrap—I don’t know when I’ll wear 
it, but Mrs. Martens insisted—and a new gown for 
the yacht club dance to-morrow night,—and you 
should see my shoes—five pairs of them.” 

“ Such richness! ” He smiled into her eager eyes. 

“ Did Diana help you choose ? ” 

“ Diana’s away—on business in the city. That’s 
why I’m free to do as I please to-day.” 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ Are you free to do as you please-?” He seized 

his opportunity. “ Then come up to the shed and 
see my air-ship. We can have a little flight across 
the harbor." 

She shook her head. “ Oh, I can’t. I have an 
engagement with Captain Stubbs and Miss Mat¬ 
thews. We are going fishing in the captain’s boat, 
and have lunch on the rocks later.’’ 

Justin looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, 
then he said, “Three’s a crowd. You ought to 
have four.” 

“ Are you asking—to be invited ? ” 

“ Please-” 

“ But it’s Captain Stubbs’ party.” 

“ I am perfectly sure that if you’ll give me a cer¬ 
tificate of good character Captain Stubbs will take 
me aboard.” 

She seemed to be summing up the situation. 
“ I’m not sure,” she said, at last, “ that you’d fit 
in-” 

“ Why not?” 

“ Oh, the captain’s old-fashioned, and Miss Mat¬ 
thews is old-fashioned, and I love them both, and so 
I don’t care. But you don’t love them.” 

He flushed. " I see. You’re afraid that I’ll make 
120 


THE GOLDEN AGE 


them feel uncomfortable. I am sorry you should 
think that. I’m not quite a cad, you know.” 

There were sparks in his eyes. He wondered that 
he should be so angry. But he was desperately 
angry with this cool little creature who didn’t seem 
to care. 

And now she was passing frigid judgment on his 
blazing words. “ Of course you aren’t a cad. I 
didn’t say you were. But you aren’t like Bobbie 
Tucker or Dr. Blake. They have always known 
these people, and they understand them. There 
are no class distinctions in a town like this, you 
know-” 

“ Have I seemed such a prig to you ? ” 

She cocked her head on one side and considered 
him. “Not since I talked to Mrs. Martens about 
you. She told me how nice you were in Germany.” 

In Germany; ye gods! Was he nice only in Ger¬ 
many ? 

He stared at her blankly. He had a feeling that 
he would like to shake her ; that he would like to— 
kiss her. 

In the midst of her conflicting emotions little Miss 
Matthews arrived, and behind her steamed Captain 
Stubbs. 


121 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


Justin, murmuring inarticulately, acknowledged 
the introduction to the captain, and greeted Miss 
Matthews. 

Miss Matthews was very prim and trim in a white 
shirt-waist and stiff collar. She had a gray sweater 
over her arm, and a green veil was tied over her soft 
felt hat. She carried in her hand a brown Boston 
bag, the contents of which she explained to Bettina. 

“ I told the captain I would bring some home¬ 
made pickles.” 

Justin gave immediate attention. 

“ Miss Matthews,” he said, “ do you mean to say 
that you three will eat fish chowder and home-made 
pickles, and that I shan’t be there ? ” 

The little captain, in a glow of hospitality, said 
heartily, “ Now, look here; can’t you come with 
us?” 

Justin showed his white teeth in a flashing smile. 
“ It’s an invitation that I’ve been fishing for all the 
morning, but Miss Dolce won’t ask me.” 

“ Don’t you want him ? ” the little captain de¬ 
manded of Bettina. 

“ Of course,” in the tone of one to whom it didn’t 
really matter. “ Perhaps he can help you with the 
boat, captain.” 


122 


THE GOLDEN AGE 

Justin, carrying Miss Matthews’ bag, helping the 
captain over with the supplies, lifting Bettina over 
the side of the boat with strong arms which yearned 
to show their strength, was in a mental attitude far 
removed from his King Cophetua mood of the 
earlier morning. He was at this moment a slave 
chained to Bettina’s chariot wheel. And the strange 
part of it was that he gloried in his chains! He 
realized that he was going out with her on a forced 
invitation, but he was going! And the sea was 
like sapphire, and the sun shone l 

Little Miss Matthews, looking back afterward on 
that glorified fishing trip, was forced to confess that 
Justin left nothing undone for her which could be 
done. Never in her life had she been deferred to by 
such a charming youth, never had her little budget 
of small talk received such respectful consideration, 
never had she been waited on, hand and foot, by 
such a cavalier! 

Rarely did Justin’s eyes stray to where Bettina sat 
beside the captain, chatting to him in her confiding 
voice, making his old heart happy by her interest in 
his sea-seasoned reminiscences. 

It was really a most altruistic performance. One 
might have imagined that for Justin there was just 
123 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


one woman in the world—Miss Matthews; and fot 
Bettina, just one man—Captain Stubbs. Yet, as 
the little boat rounded the lighthouse point and 
came into the rougher waters outside, young hearts 
were thrilling to the sound of young voices, and the 
music of the spheres was being played to the ac¬ 
companiment of beating waves. 

When at last they anchored, the fishing was 
really incidental. To be sure it was exciting, and 
they had an excellent catch, but Bettina’s hat was off 
and Justin could see her hair. And Justin, standing 
up in the bow of the boat with his line outflung, 
was, in Bettina’s eyes, more than ever like a young 
Olympian god. 

It was the same at lunch time. They landed on a 
crescent-shaped strip of beach, backed by rocky 
walls, where there was plenty of driftwood for their 
fire. There the captain gave his mind to the mak¬ 
ing of chowder, and Miss Matthews rendered expert 
service in the cutting up of onions and potatoes, and 
in the frying of salt pork. 

Justin opened the pickle bottle and did other 
prosaic and ungodlike acts, and Bettina laid the 
table on the sands like a real girl instead of a trans¬ 
ported nymph, yet each saw the other through a 

124 


THE GOLDEN AGE 


golden haze which magnified the most trivial act 
and made it important. 

Thus, when Bettina set four blue bowls at exact 
geometric distances on the cloth, Justin thought not 
of the bowls, but of Bettina’s slim white hands; and 
likewise Justin, gathering driftwood, commended 
himself to Bettina not for his industry, but for his 
swinging walk and square shoulders. 

For several days Bettina had been heavy-hearted. 
She had not seen Anthony. He had called her up 
over the telephone, and had made his excuses; there 
was the little girl with the appendicitis and the old 
man with the pneumonia—how Bettina hated the 
repetition. He would come and see her as soon as 
possible, he promised, but he had not come. 

Diana, too, had not been like herself. On the 
morning after Bettina’s visit to Anthony’s house she 
had not appeared until luncheon. She had looked 
like a ghost, and had been very busy all the after¬ 
noon. She had hinted at affairs which would take 
her to town for a time, and finally she had gone 
away. Even Mrs. Martens had seemed disturbed 
and restless. Hence Bettina had welcomed the 
invitation from Captain Stubbs. Justin's high 
spirits, his evident delight in her society, his anger 
125 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


at her rebuffs—these things soothed and flattered 
her. Above all there was the charm of his glorious 
youth. She found herself swayed to his mood. 
Might she not for one little fleeting moment dance 
to the tune that he piped ? 

Letting herself go, therefore, she was at luncheon 
bewildering in her beauty. Justin’s mocking eyes 
grew tender as he watched her. Here was no pretty 
Beggar Maid for masculine condescension, but rather 
a little goddess to be put on a pedestal and worshiped. 

Captain Stubbs and Miss Matthews, unconscious of 
the forces which were charging the air about them, 
ate their chowder and took their enjoyment placidly. 

“ A fish chowder,” said the little captain, “ never 
tastes so good in the house as it does out-of-doors, 
with the cod fresh caught, and with the smell of the 
sea for sauce.” 

Bettina passed her bowl for more. 

“ It is delicious,” she said; “ everything is—lovely/’ 

“ Isn’t it ? ” said Justin. “ There never was such a 
feast—there never was such a day-! ” 

Yet there had been many such days; there had 
been many such feasts. But not for them l It was 
the golden age of their existence. The moment of 
youth and joy, unmarred by disillusion. 

126 


CHAPTER X 


STORM SIGNALS 


T HE wind, rising, blew Miss Matthews* green 
veil into a long thin wisp which flapped toward 
the northwest. 

The captain, noticing it, glanced over his shoulder. 
“ We’ll have a storm before we know it,” he said. 

“ It's dark enough over there in the south-” 

Above the horizon rose the clouds, black with 
wind ; the waves began to murmur and run in, in 
long lines of white. 

“ There’ll be no getting back now,” said the cap¬ 
tain. 

Justin’s eyes searched the land for shelter. Be¬ 
yond the rocky wall was a hillside of hemlock, which 
formed part of the estate of a magnate from the 
West. Beyond the trees was a great house, shut up 
now, and in the hands of a caretaker. Nothing else 
seemed to offer refuge from the storm. 

“ What do you think, captain ? ” he asked. “ Had 
we better try to make the house ? ’’ 

127 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ I’ve got my oilskins," the captain said. “ I’ll 
stay here, but perhaps you folks had better run in.” 

Miss Matthews protested. “ I’ve lived too long 
on this coast to mind a storm. Til wrap up in my 
rubber coat and let it rain. But we'd better get that 
child in somewhere ; she's scared of storms." 

“ Are you ? " Justin asked Bettina. 

“ If there's going to be wind," she said, ** I'm 
awfully afraid." 

“ Then we'll run for it," he told her ; “ up the hill 
to the house." 

As he helped her climb the rocks, they took a last 
glance back at the stolid pair who didn’t mind 
storms. Captain Stubbs in brilliantly yellow new 
oilskins and Miss Matthews in a sad-colored water¬ 
proof coat sat side by side with their backs against 
the beached boat. 

“ Perhaps we should have stayed with them," said 
Bettina, doubtfully, as Justin drew her up to his level. 

But Justin had no doubts. Ahead of them was 
the dimness of the hemlock forest; the solitude of 
the storm. He coveted the brief moments when 
they might be alone together. 

“Come," he urged, and they entered upon the 
darkness of the wood. 


128 


STORM SIGNALS 


As they sped along over the cushioned earth, 
Justin helped her strongly, half lifting her at times 
over the rough places. 

“Are you afraid?” he asked her, and she shock 
her head. 

With a roar and a rush the storm was upon them. 
For a few moments they were in the midst of chaos. 
The air was full of flying things, and the branches 
crashed and fell. 

To Bettina, emotionally tense, the real world had 
disappeared She was a disembodied spirit, floating 
through infinite space with another spirit as joyous, 
as exalted, as triumphant as her own. 

When he asked her again, “ Are you afraid ? ” 
and she again shook her head, it came to her, sud¬ 
denly, that she was not afraid because she was with 
him. She felt no wonder that it was so. In this 
wild world there was no place for wonder. She and 
Justin were laughing madly as they raced. Her 
hair, loosed by the wind, streamed out behind her. 
Once it caught on a button of Justin’s coat 5 and held 
her so close to him that, when he unwound it, she 
felt the quickened beating of his heart. 

As they again sped on, she felt as if never before 
had she been alive in such a radiant wonderful sense 
129 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ Are you afraid ? ” he asked for the third time, 
bending down to catch her answer. 

“ It’s glorious,” she panted. Then as the rain 
came, he shielded her with his arm, and shouted: 

“ We’ll have to make a dash through the open; 
there’s the house ahead 1 ” 

The great house was closed and deserted, but they 
found a cloistered porch from which they could look 
out on the storm. 

Below them the trees were whipped and bent by 
the gale. Against the horizon the sea rose like a 
great gray wall. Straining their eyes, they could 
catch a glimmer of the captain’s yellow coat on the 
strip of sand. 

“ The worst of the wind is over,” said Justin ; 
“ we were lucky to escape the heavy rain.” 

Bettina, who was braiding her hair, looked up at 
him. “ Wasn’t it wonderful down there in the 
wood ? ” 

“ Did you think it wonderful ? ” 

Something in his eyes made her say, hastily, 
“ I’ve never been out in a storm before.” 

He did not reply at once 0 He was watching her 
slender fingers twist the shining strands. 

“ Let me do that for you,” he said, suddenly. 

130 


STORM SIGNALS 


" No, oh, no-” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because.” She walked away from him, and 
seated herself on a marble bench under one of the 
closed windows. 

He sat down beside her. “ I didn’t mean that im¬ 
pertinently ; truly I did not. I used to braid my 
little sister’s hair. She was lame and I took care of 
her, and, as I watched you, I thought of—my litde 
sister.” 

“ Tell me about her.” 

“ There isn’t much to tell, except that when I was 
a great hulking youngster, with only her to love— 
she died-” 

“ Oh,—I’m so sorry-” 

He went on slowly, still watching her busy fingers. 
‘ Since then I have never had a friend. Not the 
kind she was. Why, she used to love to listen 
to my boy’s talk—of how I was going to be 
great, of how I was going to conquer the world,— 
and she has been dead ten years—and I have done 
nothing.” 

It was a new Justin who spoke in this fashion. 
To Bettina he had always seemed as light as air, and 
she had enjoyed his frivolity, but now she felt some- 
IM 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


thing more than enjoyment,—a yearning to be of 
use to this big boy who was all alone, and who missed 
his little sister. 

Surely to be his friend need not interfere in any 
way with Anthony’s claims. She loved Anthony, 
and was going to marry him, of course. But friend¬ 
ship and love were different things. Why, Mrs. 
Martens was married, and she had been Justin’s 
friend in Germany. 

She spoke her thought. “ But Mrs. Martens ? ” 

“ She was a dear—but she is older than I—and I 
stood a bit in awe of her—she sympathized with me 
—but she could not dream with me, and I wanted 
some one to share my dreams.” 

Bettina’s blue eyes were wistful. What a wonder¬ 
ful thing it would be to share somebody’s dreams. 
She was perfectly sure that she did not share An¬ 
thony’s He had never told her of his dreams. 
Perhaps he didn’t have any. His life was so prac¬ 
tical and full of work, and then he was old—oh, yes, 
indeed, he was older than Mrs. Martens—and Justin 
had said that Sophie was too old to understand. 

She found herself asking, “ What were your 
dreams ? * 

“ Shan’t I bore you ? ” 


132 


STORM SIGNALS 


“ No—please-” 

“ Well, there was one dream which my little sister 
and I used to discuss as I braided her hair at night. 
It was a dream that some day I should be great. 
She had a different idea of greatness from mine, and 
we used to argue the question. I don’t think she 
ever wanted me to be President of the United States 
or to hold high office; she wanted me to do some¬ 
thing which would help humanity. She used to wish 
that I might preach or teach ; she was such a good 
little thing. And I would tell her that none of these 
vocations were for me ; I must win fame in a differ¬ 
ent way. I wanted to invent something which would 
make the world stare. Perhaps that’s the reason I 
took up aviation after she died. I thought I might 
make some great advance on the inventions of other 
men. But the other men made them first, you see, 
and I’ve just frivoled and played. Yet, as I saw 
you braiding your hair, it brought back my little 
sister so vividly, and I wondered what she would 
think of me—now.” 

For the first time in her life her heart was stirred 
by the maternal tenderness which is the heritage of 
good women. Her timid hand touched his sleeve, 
lightly. 


133 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


“I am sure,” said her little voice, unsteadily, 
u that if she knew you now, she would think you 
were—very nice.” 

“ You darling,” he was saying in his heart, but he 
dared not say it with his lips. And he went on as 
calmly as he could. 

“ I wish I could make you see my little sister as I 
knew her. She was such a pale little thing, with 
pale gold hair, and a little narrow face, and pale blue 
eyes. When I began to read Tennyson, I found my 
little sister again in 4 Elaine ’—and do you know, I 
was half glad she didn’t live to grow up. Some man 
might have hurt her as Lancelot hurt Elaine. I 
know I haven’t realized her dreams for me—but I’ve 
tried to hold on a bit to her ideal of goodness, and it 
has kept me from things which might have made me 
less of a man-” 

She was thrilled as she had never been. Justin 
began to loom up in her mind’s eye as the Knight of 
the Tender Heart—that was what Sophie had called 
him. And how wonderful that he should be telling 
her all this 1 

“ Then,” he continued, “ the money came to me, 
and since then I’ve been a butterfly. I have not 
made good use of my wealth. I have needed a 
134 



STORM SIGNALS 

friend, you see, to help me make my dreams come 
true.” 

He looked down at her. “ Would you ? ” he asked. 

“ Be your friend ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Oh, but I’m not good enough. I’ve always been 
a little selfish thing, except with mother. I loved 
her and I wasn’t selfish with her. But I’ve wanted 
a good time, and I haven’t cared for anything but 
my own pleasure. I’m not like your little sister, you 
see. I’m just a butterfly, too/’ 

“ Oh, you—you’re an angel,” ardently. 

Again she was thrilled. Anthony had never said 
such things to her. Anthony had called her a child, 
and he had not needed her. And Justin wanted her 
friendship ! All her awakened womanhood rose tc 
meet his demand. 

So intent was she on her thought that she did not 
feel the cold. But her lips were blue, and she shiv¬ 
ered as the wind swept around the corner. 

Justin jumped at once to his feet. 

“ I’m a brute to keep you here. There must be 
some one around the place who can take us in.” 

He left her, to come back presently with the news 
that there was a man down at the stables, and that 
135 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


there was a fire in the harness room. He brought a 
rain coat, and wrapped her in it, scolding himself all 
along the way for his neglect of her comfort. 

The stables of the Western magnate were vast and 
wonderful. They had been divorced somewhat from 
their original use as a place for horses, two-thirds of 
the space being given up to motor cars and electrics. 
But the riding horses were in their stalls, and, as 
Bettina entered, their heads went up. 

She stopped to pet them, then the groom led the 
way to the harness room. 

It was a picturesque place, with its lacquered 
leather, its shining brass, its racing trophies, blue 
ribbons, gold-handled whips and crops, silver cups 
and medals. 

“ Fll telephone for my car,” Justin said, “ and send 
a boy down to Captain Stubbs and Miss Matthews. 
They'll probably go back in the boat, now that the 
storm is over.” 

With the message sent, and the smiling groom, 
pleased with Justin’s generous tip, dismissed, the two 
were again alone. 

“ This is better,” said Justin, as they settled them¬ 
selves in front of the fire. “ Now you'll get some 
< 2 olor in your cheeks.” 


STORM SIGNALS 


With her chin on her hand, she said slowly, u Do 
you know that nobody ever asked me to be his friend 
before ? ” 

“ That’s luck for me. There’ll be no one else to 
share-” 

She glanced up at him with enchanting shyness. 
“ The trouble with most men is, I imagine, that they 
don’t want friendship—they want love, and that isn’t 
easy for a woman to give, is it ? ” 

Silence, then at last, uncertainly, “ I suppose not.” 

“ Any man can fall in love with a woman,” she in¬ 
formed him, “ but it seems to me that it must take 
certain kinds of men and women to be friends. 
That’s why it seems so wonderful. Why, even if I 
married some one else, I could still be your friend, 
couldn’t I?” 

“ Ye-es. Oh, yes, of course.” 

“ Perhaps that’s what I’ve missed all my life—the 
chance to really inspire some one. You know it’s 
nice to feel that you’re helping. And some men are 
so self-sufficient, so secure. You wouldn’t feel that 
you’d dare to suggest. You’d only be a child to 
them—and while it might be nice to marry a man 
like that, it would be nice, too, to have the other 
kind for a friend.” 


137 



GLORY OF YOUTH 


Of all the bewildering little creatures! If she 
married some other man, forsooth ! He set his teeth 
Well, she shouldn't marry any other man. 

“ Look here,” he asked, suddenly, “ have you ever 
been in love ? ” 

She nodded, all rosy color and drooped lashes. 
The unexpectedness of her answer made him hesitate, 
but finally he ventured, “ How did it feel ? ” 

She considered gravely. “ Why, it’s comfortable 
to know that you’ll always have some one to take 
care of you, some one who’s tender and good—too 
good, perhaps-” 

Justin was perplexed. She had spoken in the 
present tense. Was it possible that her fancy was 
really held by Anthony ? Had their wild race in the 
storm meant nothing to her ? To him it had seemed 
a sort of spiritual mating, with the storm crashing 
out a brilliant bridal chorus. 

He leaned forward. “ What you’re talking of 
isn’t love,” he said, almost roughly. “ Love doesn’t 
mean being comfortable; it doesn’t mean being 
petted and coddled like a pussy cat, or being looked 
after like a child. It means what it meant to Romeo 
when he killed himself for love of Juliet. It means 
what it meant to Orpheus when he followed Eurydice 
138 



STORM SIGNALS 

to the underworld. It means what it will mean to 
me when I have found the one woman—that I’ll 
work for her, live for her, die for her, and count the 
future blank if she does not love me in return.” 

“ How wonderful! ” she whispered after a moment. 
“ How wonderful—to be loved—like that-” 

His heart leaped. Some day he would make it 
wonderful! But not now. It was too soon to say 
the things he had to say. 

“ The most wonderful thing right now,” he said, 
“ is that you are going to be—my friend.” 

She responded radiantly. “ It will be lovely to 
have a—big brother.” 

" It will be lovelier to have—a little sister.” 

He held out his hand to her, and she took it, 
laughing lightly. And just then the smiling groom 
came to say that the gentleman’s car was at the 
door. 

The rain had stopped, but storm signals still 5 
showed in the south where the heavy clouds hung 
over the horizon. Overhead the sun shone, making 
kaleidoscope effects of the spring flowers in the 
checkered beds. Against the gray wall of the ter¬ 
raced garden the peach trees had been trained in 
foreign fashion and were full of rosy bloom. 

139 



GLORT OF TOUTH 


Bettina, coming out of the darkened stable, opened 
her eyes wide. 

“ What a different world it seems,” she said, 
“ from the one we left in the storm.” 

Justin helped her into the car. “ We’ll reach home 
before the next storm breaks,” he remarked, as he 
took his seat beside her, “ but there’s trouble ahead.” 

To him the words held no sinister meaning, nor 
to Bettina. In their hearts was no fear of the future, 
nor of the storms which might some day wreck their 
happiness. 


140 


CHAPTER XI 


THE WHITE MAIDEN 


B ETTINA, lonely in her tower, had often looked 
across enviously to the brilliantly lighted yacht 
club on the nights of the weekly dances. 

And now she was going to a yacht club dance 
with Justin in attendance, and with Sophie for 
chaperon ; with Sara and Doris and Sara’s brother 
Duke to be added to the party when they reached 
the club-house pier. 

The question of Bettina’s gown had been a puz¬ 
zling one. Sophie had brought out everything of 
her own, and Diana, white-faced after a sleepless 
night, had tried to put her mind on the matter. 

“ These are all too elaborate,” she said ; “ she is 
such a child. Perhaps it will be best for her to get 
some new things now, and if you will help her choose 
them, it will be a great favor to me, Sophie.” 

Sophie came over and kissed her. “ Poor dear,” 
she murmured. 

Diana leaned back against her friend. “ Don’t/ 
she said in a stifled voice. “ I can’t bear it.” 

141 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


They clung together tor a moment, then Diana 
went on steadily, “ I am going to town for a few 
days, Sophie—I must get away for a bit, and if you 
don’t mind, you can take Bettina in while I am gone 
and get her things. She insists that they shall not 
be gifts from me. She says that she’s already under 
great obligations—and that her own little bank ac¬ 
count is sufficient for her needs. Then, too, she can 
use all of her new things in her trousseau, and it does 
seem rather sensible, doesn’t it ? ” 

Diana had said nothing to Sophie of the meeting 
with Anthony in the empty house. It was an ex¬ 
perience too sacred for discussion. But Sophie 
had guessed much. Anthony’s continued absence, 
Diana’s restlessness, her haggard eyes, her insistent 
tenderness and care of Bettina, showed the sympa¬ 
thetic and anxious friend that something unusual 
had occurred, and that Diana was fighting a tremen¬ 
dous battle alone. 

“ Just let things run on here,” Dianasaid, “ as they 
always do You can take my place as Bettina’s 
chaperon, and Delia will take care of the house. I 
shan’t be missed, and I can—get a perspective on the 
situation.” 

Sophie protested. “ It’s too great a strain on you 
142 


the white maiden 


—you’d better send Bettina away—she and I could 
have a little trip somewhere.” 

“ No, it is I who must go,” Diana insisted. “ Bet¬ 
tina must get acquainted with Anthony’s friends. 
If he is going to marry her, he must be proud of her. 
You know that, Sophie,” sharply, “ it won’t do for 
him to take a girl as the mistress of his home whom 
nobody ever heard of, and-who could be criticized.” 

Sophie rubbed her fingers lightly across Diana’s 
forehead. “ You think only of Anthony—do you 
never think of yourself ? ” 

Diana stood up. “ It’s because I think of how 
foolish I have been,” she said, “ that I can get no 
rest. I should never have come back to America, 
Sophie.” 

“ But, dearest-dear, how could you know ? ” 

“I couldn’t know. But, oh, I wish that I had 
never come.” 

Thus it happened that Sophie and Bettina had 
gone into town, and the primrose gown and the lit¬ 
tle serge suit and the new hats and the five pairs of 
shoes, together with a wonderful creation for the 
yacht club dance, had been sent out, and tried on, 
and pronounced perfect. 

Sophie’s taste had supplemented Bettina’s meager 
143 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

funds. From her own store of exquisite laces and 
brocades, of buckles and bows, she had added 
finishing touches to frocks which might otherwise 
have been commonplace. 

When, therefore, on the day after her adventure 
with Justin Bettina took off her wrap in the cloak 
room of the yacht club, Sara Duffield drew a sharp 
breath of amazement 

“ Will you look at that gown, Doris ? ” she said 
to her placid friend. “ Would any one but an artist 
have dared to put on that side sash of rose-colored 
tulle with the silver tassel, and the wide collar of 
silver lace ? ” 

Justin Ford, knowing nothing of dressmakers, was 
none the less aware of the inspired creation. 

“ And I said yesterday that you could not wear 
pink l But this isn’t pink, is it ? It’s a rosy cloud on 
a May morning.” 

“ Do you really like it ? 99 demanded Bettina. 

“ I love—it.” 

Bettina laughed light-heartedly., It was great fun 
to have such a friendly understanding with this very 
charming young man. She wondered how she had 
quite—dared. Things seemed so different under this 
blaze of light. Had she really promised to be a 
144 


THE WHITE MAIDEN 

“little sister” to this most distinguished gentle¬ 
man? 

They had come over in Bobbie’s motor boat, and 
just before they reached the club-house pier, Justin 
had said, “ The first dance is mine, you know. I’d 
like the second and the third, but I suppose that is 
forbidden. But you must give me all you can. I 
feel that I have special brotherly privileges.” 

She danced exquisitely, her little satin-shod feet 
slipping silently through all the difficult twists and 
turns t>f the syncopated modern dances. Justin, 
guiding her expertly, knew that many glances were 
being leveled at them, knew that questions were being 
asked, that Bettina was being weighed in the social 
balance by the men and women who could make her 
success secure. 

When he gave her over, presently, to another 
partner he became aware of undercurrents. The girl 
with whom he danced shrugged her shoulders when 
he spoke with enthusiasm of Bettina’s beauty. 

“ Sara was telling me,” she said, “ that she used to 
live in the old Lane mansion, and that Diana Gregory 
has taken her up.” 

“ Sara ? ” 

Justin looked across the room to where Sara was 
145 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


dancing with Bobbie. And he made up his mind 
that before the evening was ended he should have 
something to say to the haughty little lady in blue. 

His opportunity came, presently, when he claimed 
Sara for a Spanish variation of the ever-popular 
Boston, in which his step particularly suited hers. 

“ Look here,” he remarked, as they swayed to the 
music, “ it’s up to us, Sara, to see that Bettina makes 
a hit.” 

Sara, tilting her chin, demanded, “ Why ? ” 

“ Because she is Diana Gregory’s friend, and 
Diana’s anxious to have people like her.” 

“ Why ? ” 

He gazed down at the irritating profile. 

“ You know why,” he said with great distinct¬ 
ness. “ Diana Gregory has a big heart, and this 
child has had a hard time. Diana wants to make 
her happy-” 

“But why is Diana so interested, Justin ? There 
are plenty of lonely and unhappy girls. So why 
should Diana especially pick out Bettina? She’s 
years younger than Diana, and they really haven’t 
much in common.” 

“She ? s very sweet-” Justin was quite un¬ 

aware of the intense fervor of his tones. 

146 



THE WHITE MAIDEN 


Sara's eyes narrowed to little flashing points, as 
she asked, “ Are you in love with her ? ” 

Their eyes met. “ Oh, Sara, Sara,” he teased, 
" do you expect me to wear my heart upon my 
sleeve ? ” 

“ I expect you to keep it from wandering toward 
the daughter of an Italian singer,” she said, sharply. 
“ I always fancied that you had rather decided ideas 
about family, Justin.” 

“ If you mean that I’m proud of my Knicker¬ 
bocker ancestry, I am,” he told her; “ just as you 
are proud of your Pilgrim forefathers. But Bettina 
Dolce’s blood is bluer than any that ran in the veins 
of our middle-class English and Dutch grandsires. 
Her father was a Venetian, and Bettina has the 
beauty of those lovely ladies of old Italy.” 

Sara's beauty was of an essentially modern type. 
“ I don’t see,” she said, somewhat resentfully, “ why 
I should be expected to fight the social battles of a 
girl who is really nothing to me.” 

“ Surely not,” easily, “ but I rather fancy that any 
one who snubs Bettina will have to reckon with 
Diana—and with me-” 

Sara’s lashes hid her sharp little eyes. She was 
thinking rapidly. She did not care to offend Diana— 
147 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


but more, oh, much more than that, she did not care 
to offend Justin. 

She capitulated pensively. “Why, Justin, I don’t 
know why you are calling me to account in this 
way. I’m sure I’m perfectly willing to help things 
along.” 

“ Good,” was his delighted comment, and after 
that he danced with a heart as light as his heels. 

When the music stopped, Duke Dufffeld made his 
way toward them. “ Oh, look here,” he said to his 
sister; “ why didn’t you present me sooner to Miss 
Dolce? Gee, Sara, she’s some dream—and her 
dance card was filled before I could get to it.” 

Justin smiled at this slangy confirmation of his 
own opinion. He drifted presently through the 
room, looking for Bettina, and just as the music 
began again its rhythmical beat he saw her. 

Far at the other end of the room she was dancing 
with Anthony Blake! 

Bettina had never been so happy. Anthony’s 
coming had pleased her. He had half promised 
that he might come, but there had been, as always, 
the possibility in the background that he would be 
kept away by some inconsiderate patient. But now 
he was here, and she was to have her next dance 
148 


THE WHITE MAIDEN 


with Justin. Could anything be lovelier than to 
spend her evening thus between lover and friend, 
having Anthony’s strength and kindliness to make 
her feel secure, and Justin’s glowing youth to match 
her own. 

She decided that when she and Anthony were 
alone she would tell him about the race in the storm, 
and about her friendly compact with Justin. She 
was never going to keep anything from Anthony. 
Why, he was the best man in the whole wide world— 
the very best. 

She looked up at him with her eyes like stars and 
he, meeting that radiant glance, asked, “Are you 
happy, child ? ” 

She blushed and nodded. “ Very, very happy !” 

And after that she danced in dreamy silence until 
Justin came for her. 

At supper, Anthony claimed Bettina as a matter 
of course, leaving Mrs. Martens to Justin. The four 
of them, with Bobbie and Doris and Sara and her 
brother ate at a little table on the club-house porch. 
In the pale light of the lanterns Bettina’s beauty 
was more than ever ethereal. 

Justin, watching her with puzzled eyes, took note 
of her dependence upon Anthony, of her confiding 
149 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


manner, of her undoubted interest in him, Now 
and then she flashed a glance at Justin, and he was 
forced to content himself with such occasional crumbs 
from the queen’s table. 

But he grew restless and uneasy. Anthony easily 
dominated the little group. It was in such moments 
that he was at his best. His brilliant wit, his force- 
ful personality, had never been displayed to better 
advantage. 

Justin, beside him, felt young and crude. He 
told himself that he had nothing to fear. Every¬ 
body knew that Anthony cared only for Diana. 
Yet, even as he comforted himself, he saw Bettina’s 
look of triumphant pride as Anthony brought a 
clever story to its climax, and his heart raged in 
impotent jealousy. 

They all went back together in Bobbie’s motor 
boat, and in the darkness Justin managed to say to 
Bettina, “ So you’ve deserted me.” 

“ Oh, no,” she protested, “ but you see I couldn’t 
desert—Anthony.” 

“ Has he, then, the first claim ? ” his voice shook 
as his dull resentment flamed. 

She hesitated. “ He—has been so kind—and he’s 

a sort of guardian—you know-” 

150 


THE WHITE MAIDEN 


She dared not tell him more than that, for had she 
not promised Diana that she would not? Her 
nature was so crystal clear that she would have been 
glad to set things straight, to tell him that she was 
going to marry Anthony, but that she would always 
be his friend. It was such a perfect arrangement; 
he would surely understand. 

She sighed a little, wishing that she had noth¬ 
ing to hide. And with her sigh his moodiness 
vanished. 

44 If it’s because he’s your guardian, all right— 
but I’m not going to give you up always so easily.” 

44 Why must you give me up at all?” she chal¬ 
lenged. 

44 Why ? ” he echoed. “ There is no 4 why.’ I 
shall never give you up.” 

At Diana’s door she said 44 Good-bye.” 44 It has 
been the loveliest evening of my life,” she told him. 
44 1 shall never forget.” 

Anthony came in, ostensibly to telephone, but 
really to have a moment alone with Bettina. Sophie, 
with sympathetic insight, made the excuse of a 
letter, which Anthony could mail, and withdrew to 
write it. 

In the dimly-lighted music room, Anthony said, 
i5i 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


* You must forgive me, dear child, for seeming to 
neglect you, but I’ve been such a busy man.” 

“ I know.” She looked up at him. “ But it seems 
nice to have you now.” 

“ And it seems nice to have you.” 

He smiled at her, but he did not touch her. Some¬ 
how since that night in the empty house with Diana 
he had felt that there were things which must come 
slowly. If he was to play the lover to little Betty, it 
must be when he could shut out from his heart the 
image of that pale tall woman in the lilac-scented 
room. 

But Bettina missed nothing from his manner. She 
felt for him a grateful affection, an unbounded re¬ 
spect, but her wish for impulsive demonstration was 
gone. She was content to be near him, to know 
that he cared for her—beyond that she had no con¬ 
scious desires. 

Still smiling at her, he took from his pocket a 
little box. “ I haven’t been too busy to remember 
that I wanted to give you this,” he said, and handed 
it to her. 

Set in a slender ring were three great diamonds, 
and for a guard there was a little circlet of sapphires. 

“ Perhaps you won’t care to wear it now,” he said 
152 


THE WHITE MAIDEN 


as she gave a gasp of delight, “ but I wanted you to 
have it. I wanted it to be the sign and seal of the 
bond which is between us.” 

She came to him, then all gratitude and clinging 
sweetness, and put up her face to be kissed. 

He touched his lips to her forehead. And he said 
he was glad that he had made her happy. But he 
did not tell her that he had forced himself to plight 
thus, tangibly, his troth to her that there might be no 
escape from the path of honor which he must foJlow, 

Little Bettina, alone tnat night in her room, took 
off the rosy dress and laid it on her bed. Then, en¬ 
veloped in her long white motor coat, she went out 
on her porch, and curled up in one of the big chairs. 
Across the harbor the lights were out at the yacht 
club. Between the Neck and the main shore little 
starlike points showed where the lanterns were 
swung on the sleeping boats. It was long after mid¬ 
night, and the cold morning mists were already com¬ 
ing in. 

But she could not sleep. She had so many won¬ 
derful things to think of. A few weeks ago she had 
been a little lonely child with no one who cared 
whether she lived or died—now she was rich in love 
and friendship. 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


She turned the ring on her finger. How strange 
k seemed to think that in a few short months she 
would be—married. That she would belong to 
Anthony until death should part them. 

Her breath came quickly. She stood up, slim and 
white in her long coat. Then suddenly she slipped 
to her knees. 

u Oh, please, please/' she prayed, with her face 
upturned to the waning stars, “ make me worthy of 
his love. Make me worthy to be his wife/' 


CHAPTER XII 


YOUTH AND BEAUTY 

I T was two days after the dance at the yacht club 
that Diana came home. She arrived late and un¬ 
expectedly. Bettina had gone to bed, and the only 
light which burned to welcome her was Sophie’s, on 
the third floor. 

Diana paid her cabman, and set her key in the 
lock, to be welcomed by Peter Pan’s purring note as 
she opened the door. 

She stooped and picked up the big cat “ Dear 
Peter,’ 7 she whispered. 

Peter, held against her heart, sang his little song 
of content, and, standing for a moment in the dark¬ 
ness, Diana fought for self-control before she went 
up to Sophie’s room. 

Mrs. Martens, wrapped in her gray kimono, was 
writing letters. She looked up with a glad cry as 
Diana entered. 

<£ Why, Diana,” she said, “ you darling ! ” 

155 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“1 didn’t telegraph,” Diana said, as she kissed her 
friend, 44 for there wasn’t any use. I had my key, 
and I knew I could get a cab-” 

44 You’re tired, dearest-dear.” Sophie’s worried 
eyes noted the weariness of gesture and tone, and 
the shadows under Diana’s eyes as she untied her 
veil and took off her hat. 

44 Yes, I’m tired, dead tired.” Diana dropped into 
a chair, and laid her head against the cushioned 
back. 

Sophie bent over her. 44 You’re not comfortable,” 
she said ; 44 come on down to your room and take a 
hot bath, and I’ll heat a cup of milk, and then you 
can rest all warm and comfy, and I’ll rub your head.” 

44 Sophie,” said Diana, suddenly, 44 1 wonder if I 
ever rubbed anybody’s head ? ” 

44 Of course,” said Sophie ; 44 what makes you say 
that?” 

44 Because I’ve been thinking a lot since I went to 
town, and it seems to me that all my life I’ve just 
taken and have not given. I took Anthony’s love— 

I've taken your service-” She held out her 

hand. 44 Oh, I’ve been a selfish pig, Sophie, darling.” 

Sophie took the extended hand and patted it. 
44 What a silly thing to say,” soothingly ; 44 youVe 
156 



TOUTH AND BEAUTY 


always been everything—to me, Diana. You’ve 
done so much for me that I can never repay.” 

“ Oh, yes, in giving big things—but it’s the little 
things that count—like heating cups of milk and rub¬ 
bing people’s heads.” 

She said it whimsically, but there were tears in her 
eyes. 

44 You come right down and go to bed,” Sophie 
advised. 44 And we can talk all about it afterward.” 

Diana, propped up among her pillows, watched her 
friend as she flitted like a gray moth about the room, 
intent on various comforting offices, and when at 
last Sophie brought to her a steaming cup Diana 
said, 44 Do you know, Sophie, I’ve always thought 
myself a rather superior person.” 

44 Well, you are,” Sophie agreed. 

M I’m not. Oh, I’ve made up my mind about 
things at last, and I know that it hasn’t been Bet- 
tina’s happiness, nor Anthony’s happiness that I have 
been thinking about, but my own. 

14 If I had not stayed on after I found out the state 
of things here,” she continued, “Anthony would 
have learned to care for Betty—every man loves 
youth and beauty-” 

Sophie shook her head. 44 It takes us women all 
157 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


of our lives to learn that it is not for the red of out 
lips or the blue of our eyes that we are loved-” 

“ Oh, but you know it is the beautiful women who 
draw men-” 

“ But it is not the beautiful women who hold them. 
HI set any demure little soul with a loving heart 
against all the faultlessly-regular-splendidly-null 
persons in the world when it comes to keeping the 
affections of a husband—and what has Bettina that 
she can give Anthony to take the place of the things 
which he has loved in you ? ” 

“ She has youth.” 

“ How you harp on that string 1 You have a mind 
and soul which meets Anthony’s. And your beauty 
equals hers. You must not forget that, Diana.” 

“ I don’t forget it. I know what I mean to An¬ 
thony. But Bettina will mean other things to him. 
And who shall say which of us would make the bet¬ 
ter wife ? 

“ Oh, I’ve thought these things all out, and I know 
that I could never be happy, Sophie, if my happi¬ 
ness were founded on the hurt heart of that child. 
And so—I am going away—and let things go back 
to where they would have been if I had never 


come — 


158 



YOUTH AND BEAUTY 

“ Do you think they can—ever go back, Diana ?* 

Diana, remembering Anthony’s face in the moon¬ 
light, hesitated, then she said, bravely, “ I shall not 
ask myself that question, Sophie, I shall simply do 
the thing which will seem right to me, and I am sure 
it is right for me to go away.” 

“And Bettina?” 

“She must stay here with you until she is mar¬ 
ried. You won’t mind, will you ? There will be 
plenty of things to do. You can help with her wed¬ 
ding outfit. And after they are—married, you and 
I will go back—to Berlin. No, we won’t, Sophie. 
We’ll go to the desert, and down the Nile, and we’ll 
go to Japan, and see Fujiyama; and we’ll visit the 
temples in China, and we’ll find out from some of 
those old Buddhists how they acquire—peace ” 

“ We will go to the ends of the earth if you wish 
—but there’s only one place that I shall ask you to 
take me, Diana.” 

“ Where, dear heart ? ” 

“ To that quiet spot over there in Germany, where 
the big cross stands up against the sky ——” 

“ Sophie—of course you shall go there, dear.” 

Mrs. Martens knelt by the bed. “ I’ve been think¬ 
ing of my lover, too, while you’ve been away. We 
159 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

have each lost the man who made the world a won¬ 
derful place—henceforth you and I must live among 
the shadows—but because we have each other, it 
shall not be quite so hard.” 

It was a long time before they came back to the 
question of Diana's departure. 

“ But what excuse can you give for going now, 
Diana ? ” 

“ My health,” said Diana, promptly. “ Every¬ 
body knows that I first went to Germany for the 
baths, and I can say what is true,—that the damp¬ 
ness here disagrees with me, with my throat.” 

“ But where will you go ? ” 

“To the mountains; oh, Sophie, I shall lift up my 
eyes to the hills, and hope for strength-” 

Out of the ensuing silence came the sound of a 
little tap at the door. 

“ Is Diana there ? ” asked Bettina on the other 
side. “ I thought I heard her voice.” 

As Bettina came in, the radiance of youth shone 
from within and round about her. She kissed Diana 
“ Oh, so many things have happened,” rapturously, 
ts since you went away. Do you want me to tell you 
about them ? ” 

“ You blessed baby,” said Diana, and it seemed to 
i6q 



YOUTH AND BEAUTY 

Sophie that in her voice was a note of sincere affeo 
tion. 

Bettina curled herself up on the foot of Diana’s 
bed. “ Well, in the first place,” she said, “ Anthony 
gave me a ring—a lovely ring, and a little guard to 
wear with it.” 

Diana did not flinch. “And why aren’t you wear¬ 
ing your lovely ring,” she asked, “ for all the world 
to see?” 

“ Oh, but you said I mustn’t,” Bettina told her* 
“and so I keep it here.” 

She tugged at a slender chain which hung around 
her neck, and brought forth from beneath the em¬ 
broidered thinness of her gown the two rings, 
which gave out flashing lights as she bent toward 
Diana. 

Diana did not touch them. “ They’re lovely,” she 
said, steadily ; “ aren’t they, Sophie ? ” 

“ I’m glad he didn’t give me pearls,” Bettina went 
on, as Mrs. Martens exclaimed at their beauty, “ be¬ 
cause pearls mean tears.” 

“ I’ve always worn pearls,” said Diana. 

“ Oh, but not as love gifts,” said Bettina, quickly. 
“ It’s only when your lover gives you a pearl that 
you weep—my mother’s gift from my father was a 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


great pearl—and when—he went away—she dropped 
it—into the sea. 

“ And I didn’t blame her.” Bettina was swinging 
her own rings back and forth, and they gave out a 
silvery tinkle like a chime of fairy bells. “ I didn’t 
blame her, although the pearl was worth a great 
deal of money and we were poor. I shouldn’t want 
a ring after a man had ceased to love me, would 
you?” 

“ Of course not,” said Diana, “ and now—tell me, 
what were the other nice things which happened 
while I was away ? ” 

“ Oh,” Bettina laughed, “ I went fishing with Cap¬ 
tain Stubbs and Miss Matthews, and Justin-” 

“Justin?” 

“ Yes. Justin Ford. He invited himself. I told 
Mrs. Martens when I came home that I tried not to 

have him go, but he would, and it stormed -- Oh, 

well, we had a lovely time.” 

Somehow she had found it hard to tell Mrs. 
Martens, as she was finding it hard to tell Diana, 
just what had made the day so lovely. And as for 
her compact of friendship, she would tell Anthony 
but no other. 

“ Then there was the yacht club dance,” she con 



TOUTH AND BEAUTT 


tinued, “ and oh, Diana, you should have seen my 
gown—it was a dream.” 

Sophie confirmed her verdict. “ She was lovely in 
it, Diana,” she said, “ and everybody is talking of 
the success she made.” 

“ And Anthony came,” said Bettina, “ and when 
we reached home he gave me the ring, and yester¬ 
day I had a long ride with him ; oh, yes, and the day 
before, Justin and Sara and Doris and I had lunch 
on Bobbie’s boat.” 

“ I thought Bobbie’s boat was in the yard for re¬ 
pairs ?” 

“ It is,” said Bettina, “ and that’s the fun of it. 
He’s living on board, and yesterday he and Justin 
looked up and saw me on the porch, and they in¬ 
sisted on having a lunch party, and Bobbie made 
his man get up a perfectly wonderful little lunch, and 
he telephoned for the other girls, and Duke, and we 
climbed the ladder and ate up there in the air, and 
Sophie chaperoned us from your front porch.” 

“ They wanted me to climb the ladder too,” said 
Sophie, “ but I told them I would be a little angel up 
aloft, and play propriety at a safe distance. It’s a 
good thing the yacht yard happens to be at the foot 
of your rocks, Diana, or I’m afraid Bettina would 
163 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

nave gone unchaperoned. It’s a dizzy height up 
that ladder.” 

“ And Bobbie sent things up to her in a basket,” 
Bettina related ; “ we let down a piece of hammock 
rope, and we tied the basket to it.” 

Diana, listening to the light chatter, felt set apart 
by the tragedy of her own unhappiness. Once she 
would have enjoyed an escapade like the lunch 
party; now she was glad that she could go away— 
and leave it all behind her and perhaps—forget. 

“ Bobbie is such a funny fellow ”—Bettina was still 
swinging the tinkling rings—“ and he’s awfully in 
love with Doris. And Doris worships him, and it 
makes Sara furious.” 

“ But, my dear, Sara isn’t the least bit in love with 
Bobbie.” 

“ I know, but she trunks Doris is so silly to let 
Bobbie see—but that’s just what Bobbie adores in 
her. He likes to be worshiped, and he’s posi¬ 
tively puffed up with pride like a pouter pigeon 
because he’s going to marry Doris.” 

“ Then it’s settled ? ” Diana asked. 

“ Yes. It seems he proposed on the night of the 
yacht club dance, and yesterday at lunch Bobbie 
announced it, and he blushed and Doris blushed— 
164 


YOUTH AND BEAUTY 

but really it was awfully sweet, Diana—they are so 
happy. 

“ At first I thought Bobbie liked Sara,” Bettina 
stated, later. 

“ Oh, no.” Diana laughed. “ It’s Justin, you 
know, with Sara.” 

The flashing rings tinkled, tinkled. Bettina’s 
eyes were on them. 

“ Oh, are they—engaged ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; it’s just a friendship, I fancy.” 

So ? Other girls were his friends 1 Bettina’s head 
went up, and she slipped the rings back in their 
hiding place. 

“They’ve always known each other,” Diana ex¬ 
plained. “ You see Sara was a sharp-tongued little 
girl, and Justin could get along with her better than 
the other boys because of his easy-going ways. 
And he gets along with her now, but usually it is a 
sort of armed truce.” 

Bettina felt better, but needing further assurance, 
she ventured, “ I suppose he has a sort of brotherly 
feeling for her.” 

It was Sophie who answered that question. 

“ No, he hasn’t. Justin adores the memory of his 
own little sister. She was a dear child and lame. 

165 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


And she was about as like Sara, I imagine, as 
a white dove is like a peacock. Justin has often 
told me that when he marries he wants to find a 
woman to whom he can tell his dreams as he told 
them to his little sister—it is perhaps because he has 
failed to find such a woman that he is unmarried.” 

It seemed to Bettina, suddenly, that all the stars 
sang ! “ Oh, it’s such a lovely world ”—she was all 

aglow—“ and you’ve made it lovely for me, Diana, 
by having me here, and doing wonderful things 
for me.” 

“ I want you to stay for a long time, dear, until 
you are married. But you’ll forgive me if I go 
away and leave you alone with Sophie for a while ? ” 

“ Oh, must you go away again ? ” 

“ Yes. I’m not well. This air doesn’t agree with— 
my throat,” Diana stammered, not caring to meet 
the clear eyes. 

“ Oh, but I’m afraid that I’m terribly in the 
way,” Bettina said distressfully. “You’ll want Mrs. 
Martens to go with you. You mustn’t have her 
stay on my account. I can go back to my rooms 
with Miss Matthews. Really I can—I shouldn’t 
mind.” 

“My dear, I should mind very much.” Diana 
166 


YOUTH AND BEAUTT 

reached out her hand to her. “ Don’t make me 
unhappy by taking it that way—I want you here.” 

“ But you’ve done enough for me, putting yourself 
out in this way-” 

“ I have done only the things that I wanted to do. 
And now don’t make me unhappy by suggesting 
that you won’t keep poor Sophie company. What 
would she do without you ? ” 

Bettina looked from one to the other. “ Are you 
very sure you shouldn’t go away together, if it 
weren’t for me ? ” 

“ Very sure—I should bore her terribly.” 

They all laughed, and Bettina said, “ Of course I 
know you’re doing it all for my sake-” 

“And for Anthony,” said Diana, softly? “for the 
sake of my old friend Anthony.” 

“ How wonderful your friendship is,” said Bettina, 
softly. “It makes me believe in all friendship, 
Diana.” 

A little later she slid down from the bed* “ You're 
tired and I’m keeping you up. I’ll run along.” 

But Diana held her for a moment. 

“ Anthony will soon want to be going into the big 
house—when will you be ready, Bettina ? ” 

“ Oh, not yet,” said Bettina, breathlessly, “ not 
167 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


yet Fd rather wait Don’t you think it will be 
best to wait ? ” 

“Why?” 

“ Oh/’ her cheeks flamed, “ I don’t know why— 
only I don’t want to get married—for a long time, 
Diana.” 

Diana looked at her with puzzled eyes. There 
was some change in the child which she could not 
fathom* What had happened to little Bettina in the 
short time since she had been away? She would 
ask Sophie—she would ask—Anthony. 

In the adjoining room the telephone rang. 
Sophie, going to answer it, came back with the an¬ 
nouncement, “ It’s Anthony. He wanted to know 
if you had returned. He needs you at the hospital. 
That little girl with the appendicitis is very much 
worse. But I told him that you had just reached 
home, and that you were so tired, and it was so 
late-” 

“ Sophie, how could you ? Tell him I’ll come 
Ask him to send his car forme. Bettina, dear, 
hand me my slippers, and help me with my 
hair.” 

Bettina was shivering and white. “ Is it the girf 
Anthony operated on ? ” she asked. 

168 



TOUTH AND BEAUTT 


“Yes. Sophie, I’ll wear the white serge. It’s the 

easiest to get into, and my long coat-” 

Bettina’s shaking voice went on: “ Wouldn’t it 
be—dreadful—if anything happened ? Wouldn’t it 
be dreadful—if she should die ? ” 

Sophie laid her hand on the girl’s shoulder. 
“ Help Diana now, dear,” she advised; “ we’ll talk 
about it afterward.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONY 


D IANA never forgot that ride in the dark to 
Harbor Light. It was a clear night, with the 
sea like a sheet of silver under the moon. The big 
building, which loomed up, at last, before her f 
seemed, with its yellow-lighted windows, like some 
monster of giant size, gazing wide-eyed upon the 
waters. 

The gardens, through which she passed, were 
heavy with the scent of hyacinths ; the slight wash 
of the waves on the beach only emphasized the still¬ 
ness. 

As she drove up to the doorway, two night nurses 
flitted through the corridor, ghost-like in their white 
uniforms. 

Then came Anthony. His face looked worn and 
worried. 

“ We couldn’t save her, Diana,” he said, tensely. 

“ Oh, the poor little thing 1 ” 

“We made a fight for it. I sent for you because 
'f she roused I wanted you to be there.” 

170 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONY 


“ If you had telephoned sooner.” 

“ I could not. The change was very sudden.* 
He flung himself into a chair. “ Oh, what is all my 
skill worth, Diana, when I couldn’t save that child?” 

She had seen him in such moods before, when he 
had felt powerless against all the opposing forces of 
disease and death. 

But she did not care that others should see him. 
It was enough that she should know that this great 
doctor Anthony had his weaknesses. The rest of 
the world should not know it. 

“ Come out into the garden,” she coaxed ; “ the 
air will do you good.” 

As they walked up and down the garden paths he 
gave her more definite details. “ She did not know 
that she was going. There was no reason to trouble 
her gentle soul with fears. And so, at last, when she 
drifted off into the silence, she was smiling.” 

“ And I am sure that she was still smiling when on 
the other side she found Love waiting.” 

“ How wonderfully you put it, Di.” 

“It is not because I put it that way; it is because 
it is wonderful. Do you know, Anthony, that has 
always been my idea of heaven—as a place where 
Infinite Love waits. If that little child had lived she 
1 7i 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


would have faced a future of loneliness—now she 
will never be lonely—never sick—never unhappy." 

“ But she wanted to live." 

“ But she didn’t know life, Anthony—as some of 
us know it, as a place of unfulfilled dreams ——" 

They had reached the beach, and the track of the 
moon spread out before them, ending only at the 
horizon. 

“ She followed the path o’ the moon," said Diana, 
softly, “ a little white soul in a silver boat Death is 
a great adventure, Anthony." 

“ Sometimes I feel as if I were merely a long¬ 
shoreman, who helps to load the boats as they start 
on that great adventure-" 

“ What do you mean ? " 

“ Oh, we doctors see so much of pain which we 
cannot ease, so much misery which we cannot pre¬ 
vent. We see the innocent suffering for the guilty 
—the weak bearing the burdens which belong to the 
strong—and even if we try our hardest we can’t 
change these things—and the boats still go sailing 
out to the Unknown " 

“ Anthony, I wish I might be sure of one thing -" 

“ What, dear girl-? " 

^That you would never change your present 
IJ2 





HER LETTER TO ANTHONY 


point of view. So many doctors lose faith in human 
nature because they see only the diseased side, and 
their vision becomes distorted. And, losing their 
faith in man, they lose faith in God. The thing 
which has always made you, in my eyes, a great 
man as well as a great surgeon has been the fact that 
you have seemed to understand that you were work¬ 
ing with Infinite Love toward the completion of a 
perfect plan; you have seemed to understand that 
life is good as long as it is lived wisely and well; 
that death is good when it ends suffering and sor¬ 
row, These things you have seen and known—I 
want you always to see and know them.” 

“ If any one could make me see and .know them it 
is you, Diana.” 

They were silent after that, and presently she said 
that she must go. 

Anthony took her home himself in his little car, 
and when at last they reached her door he said, 
gratefully: “ What should I do without your friend¬ 
ship ? At least I have that, Diana.” 

She hesitated. “ It must be a long distance 
friendship, Anthony.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

u 1 am going away.” 


173 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“Oh, why should you? We are self-controlled 
man and woman, not impulsive boy and girl. We 
have set our feet on a hard path. Why shouldn’t we 
cheer each other along the way ? ” 

“I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fair—to Bettina.” 

“ Why not ? My friendship for you need deprive 
her of nothing.” 

“ I must think it over.” 

“ Don’t think. Don’t analyze at all. Just stay.” 
A grave smile lighted his face. “ I’m not mak¬ 
ing this as a selfish proposition, Diana. I shan’t 
expect to absorb you, to take you away from 
other friendships. But I want you to be near me at 
such times as this; when my world was without a 
ray of light, you illumined it with your friendly 
taper.” 

Diana climbed the steps in an uplifted mood. 
This, then, was the solution of the difficulty. She 
had been making high tragedy of the situation when 
it might be solved sensibly. She remembered a 
quotation which she had copied in her school note¬ 
book : “ My friend is one with whom I can associate 
my choicest thought.” Her friendship with Anthony 
could go on as before. She could be an inspirational 
force in his life. Had she the right to refuse ? 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONT 


She found Bettina and Sophie sitting up for her. 

“ Oh, you’re back so soon,” Bettina said. “ Is she 
better ? Is that little girl better ? ” 

Diana returned to realities with a shock. How 
selfish she had been! She had almost forgotten 
that poor little soul at the hospital. 

“ No, she isn’t better.” She shrank from voicing 
the truth. “ They couldn’t save her, and before I 
reached there she was—gone.” 

“ Dead / ” Bettina shuddered. “ Oh, I think such 
things are dreadful; I don’t see how Anthony stands 
it.” 

“It has made him very miserable,” Diana told 
her; “ he hates to lose a case.” 

“ Then why does he do it ? ” Bettina demanded. 
“ Why doesn’t he give up his surgery ? He has 
enough to do with his freaks at the sanatorium, and 
his sick people who need medicine.” 

“ Would you have a man give up a thing which 
he can do better than other men ? ” 

Sophie, looking on, wondered if there had ever 
been a greater contrast than these two women who 
faced each other in the rose-colored room. Diana, 
tall and pale, with wisps of hair flying a bit untidily 
from beneath her soft hat, yet still beautiful and with 
175 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


die light of high resolve shining in her steady eyes 
Bettina, a little slender slip of a child, her fair shin¬ 
ing braids falling below her knees, her eyes de¬ 
manding why men and women should be dedicated 
*0 hardness. 

44 I have been telling Bettina, Mrs. Martens inter¬ 
posed, gently, “ that she will understand some day 
what such a man means to the world.” 

For once in her life Diana, tired Diana, lost 
patience. “ She ought to know what such a man 
means,” she said. 

Bettina put her hands before her face and stood 
very still. 

“ Oh, dear child,” said Diana, remorsefully, “ I 
shouldn’t have said such a thing to you. I didn’t 
mean it.” 

Bettina’s hands dropped straight at her sides,, 
Her blue eyes were misty. 41 But it’s true,” she 
said. “ I’m afraid—I’m afraid I’m not the wife for 
Anthony.” 

Never had there been a truer saying. Yet the two 
older women stood abashed before the hurt look on 
the little white face. 

44 He has always seemed to me to be the noblest 
man,” Bettina went on. 44 1 don’t think I have ever 
176 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONT 


felt that he was anything- but great. You people 
who have always had everything, can’t understand 
what he seemed to me when he used to come when 
mother was ill. You can’t understand what it meant 
when he came to me when I was almost dead with 
loneliness, and told me that he wanted to marry me 
—you can’t understand how every night—I pray— 
on my knees, that I’ll be good enough for him—you 
can’t understand how grateful I am—and how I try 
to appreciate his work ; but I’m made that way—to 

hate pain. I hate to know about it—to see it-” 

Again she shuddered. 

Diana drew her close. “ Oh, you poor little thing,’ 1 
she said, “ you poor little thing.” 

When the dawn, not many hours later, peeped 
into the three rooms, it showed, in one, Sophie 
asleep beneath the picture of her lost lover. In an¬ 
other Bettina, asleep, with tears still on her lashes, 
and with the flashing rings rising and falling above 
her heart. In the third room it showed Diana, 
awake, after hours of weariness—writing a letter to 
Anthony. 

When Anthony had read that letter, he left the Sana 
torium and took a path which led him to the hills 
and into the hemlock forest. The walk up the hills 
177 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


was long, and the sun was hot, so that when he 
reached the depths of the wood he threw himself 
down with a grateful sense of the stillness which 
could not be disturbed by telephone or tap at the 
door. For a little while he lay with his eyes shut, 
steeping himself in that blessed silence. 

When at last he sat up, he took from his pocket 
Diana’s letter, and read it again, passing his hand 
now and then nervously through his hair, until it 
stood up like the ruffled plumage of an eagle. 

“ Dear Anthony :— 

“ It will be easier for me to talk with you in 
this way than face to face. When you are with me, 
my point of view seems to get mixed up with your 
point of view, and before 1 know it, I find myself 
making promises which I cannot keep, as to-night, 
when I almost said I would stay—and be your 
friend. 

“ I have always been your friend, Anthony. 
Haven’t I ? Even when I was a little girl, and you 
were a big boy, you seemed to find something in 
me which made it worth while for you to leave the 
other big boys and stay with me and talk about my 
books. Will I ever forget how you read some of 
them aloud to me ? I never open now my thumbed 
little copy of 4 Cranford ’ without hearing your laugh¬ 
ing voice stumbling over the mincing phrases, and 
as for * Little Women,’ I believe that I worshiped 
in you the personification of ‘ Laurie.’ 

178 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONT 


u But those were not the best times, Anthony. 
The best were when it was too dark to read, and I 
would curl up on the big bench by the side of the 
fire, and you would lie at full length on the hearth¬ 
rug, and the wind would blow and the waves would 
boom, and you would weave tales for me out of your 
wonderful wealth of boyish dreams. 

“ Blessed memories! But even then I believe I 
resented your masterfulness a bit, Anthony. There 
was that time when you told me that I must get my 
lessons before you would finish the story which was 
so near the end. And I cried and coaxed, but you 
stood firm—and I respected you for it, and hated you 
and loved you in one breath. 

“ Oh, my big boy Anthony ! Shall I ever forget 
you, with your brown lock over your blue eyes, your 
unswerving honesty of purpose, your high ideals. 
When you came home from college, and I had just 
put up my hair, and lengthened my dresses, you 
started to kiss me, then stopped. ‘I thought I 
could/ you said, with such a funny note of surprise 
in your voice, ‘ but there’s something about you that 
sort of—holds me off, Di/ 

“ I think then that I began to know my power 
over you. And how I have used it, Anthony ! I 
have kept you single and alone all these years, be¬ 
cause something in me would not yield to your kind 
of wooing. 

“ If only you could have been a cave man and 
could have carried me off ! So many women wish 
that of men, especially proud women. It isn’t that 
we admire brutality, but we want to have all of our 
little feminine doubts and fears overcome by the 
man’s decisive action. And you made the mistake 

m 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


of waiting* patiently, asking me now and then, * Will 
you ? ’ instead of saying, * You must. 1 

“ Yet while you could not win me, in other ways 
you dominated me. Do you remember the holidays 
when I came home from boarding-school, and you 
were interne at a hospital ? You asked me to go to 
the theater with you, and at the last moment you 
were called to the operating room to help one of the 
surgeons. You telephoned that you’d send a car¬ 
riage for me and my chaperon, but that you couldn’t 
go ;—and I wouldn’t go either, but stayed at home 
and sulked, and looked at myself in the glass, now 
and then, to mourn over the fact that you couldn’t 
see me in my pink organdie with the rosebuds. 

“ But you wouldn’t even apologize for what I 
called your neglect. I said I should never go with 
you. You said it wasn’t neglect, and that I should 
go. And go I did, finally, as meekly as possible, 
and I wore the pink organdie and had a lovely time, 

“ It’s the memory of that night when you couldn’t 
fit your plans to mine which has made me write this 
letter. When I came home from Harbor Light I 
found Bettina waiting up for me, and she broke 
down as the depressing realities of your work were 
forced upon her. I was very toploftical, Anthony— 
and was prepared to read her a sermon on the duties 
of a doctor’s wife, when all at once I had a vision of 
myself in that rosebud organdie. I hated your work 
then, and I felt that you lacked something of devo¬ 
tion to me, to let it keep you from me. 

“ But later I felt differently. The world began to 
call you a great man—and I began to see with 
clearer eyes what you were doing for the world. 
And so I helped you at Harbor Light, and saw you 
180 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONY 


there at your best—with your forceful control of all 
those helpless people, with your steadiness of hand 
and eye, a king who ruled by virtue of his power 
over life and death. 

“ It was in those days, I think, that I began to 
worship you. But I never called my worship love. 
I wanted to be Me, Myself, and somehow I felt that 
when I was once promised to you I should have no 
separate identity. It was the rebellion of a strong 
personality against a stronger one. I was not wise 
enough to see that you who protected others from 
the storms of life might want some little haven of 
your own—a haven which would be—Home. 

“ But because you failed to be masterful in the 
one way which would have won me, because you 
said, always, ‘Will you?’ instead of, ‘Come—let 
there be no more of this between you and me, Diana/ 
I went away, not understanding you, not under¬ 
standing myself. 

“ And over there with Sophie, I met Van Rosen. 
As I look back upon it, I do not wonder that he 
charmed me. He was different from our American 
men, a lover of pleasure. He typified the spirit of 
joy to me—there was never a moment when he had 
not some vivid plan for me. We did things of 
which I had always dreamed. 

“ He gave a house party for me in his ancestral 
castle on the Rhine. And he proposed to me in an 
ancient chapel with the moonlight making the effigies 
of his old ancestors seem like living knights in 
golden armor. 

“It was all so picturesque that practical America 
—that you, oh, I must confess it, Anthony,—seemed 
miles away. It seemed to me that in my own coun- 
181 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


try we lived dreary lives in a workaday atmosphere. 
It was only in that castle on the Rhine that there 
were people who knew how to play. So I became 
engaged, and through all those months, Van Rosen 
and I played together. 

“ But I grew so tired of it, so deadly tired of it I 
Life seemed to have no meaning. And after a time 
I grew a little afraid. Van Rosen was different. I 
can’t define exactly where the difference lay. But 
between us was the barrier of centuries of opposing 
traditions. I began to feel that as his wife I should 
be a Princess in name, but a slave in fact. Always 
laughing, always seeming to dance in the sunshine, 
he had a hardness which nothing could soften. I 
saw him now and then with those whom he con¬ 
sidered his inferiors. I saw his treatment of his 
servants, his horses, his dogs. I heard him speak 
once to an old and dependent aunt, at another time to 
a young governess—and my cheeks burned—and I 
was afraid. 

“ It came back to me then how you had always 
treated those who were weaker than yourself. You 
had always been a champion of old ladies and chil¬ 
dren. Every animal, from Peter Pan to your old fat 
horse—that old fat horse now is living in clover since 
you acquired your motor cars—adored and followed 
you. 

“ And one day I told Van Rosen—that I couldn’t 
marry him. You don’t know how humble I felt to 
think that I might have hurt him. But in that mo* 
ment his real self showed. He was angry, furiously 
angry, and I knew all at once that it was my money, 
and not me that he wanted. 

" And so I came back to you- 


HER LETTER TO ANTHONT 


“ But you had Bettina, and there was no place for 
me. No place for the little dark-eyed girl who had 
listened to the big boy on stormy nights, no place 

for the woman who had not known her own heart- 

“ And now you want me to be your friend. But I 
can’t be your friend—Anthony. Friendship is for 
the man and woman who have never loved. A 
friendship which is the aftermath of love is the 
shadow after the substance. Can’t you see that it is 
so ? Can’t you see that there would be just two 
things which might happen ? If I stayed here and 
tried to be your friend, either I should knit myself to 
you by ties which should bind you to your wife, or we 
should drift apart, having the perfect memory neither 
of love nor of friendship. 

“ Bettina is very young, but she has depths of 
which you have not dreamed, of which I had not 
dreamed, until I talked with her last night. I went 
up to her room, and we had a very sweet and tendei 
confidence. It was almost dawn before I left her. 
She showed me much of her heart, as she will, I 

hope, some day show it to you- 

“ Hers is a little white soul, dear friend. On the 
surface she has her girlish petulances, her youthful 
prejudices. But these ? Why, I had a thousand of 
them, Anthony. How I snubbed those poor students 
whom you brought with you one afternoon to tea 
because their elbows were shiny and their shoes 
rusty. I was such a little snob, Anthony. How I 
should welcome them now—those great doctors, 
who have done so much for humanity. 

“ It is life which teaches us, dear friend. It will 
teach Bettina. And it must teach me this : To bear 
the hard things. Do you remember in those days 

183 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


when we read of knights on the battle-field that we 
loved those who died fighting ? And how we hated 
those who ran away ? Well, Fm going to fight— 
but my fight must begin by running away. 

“ It isn’t a battle which we can fight together. 
The two who must do things together are you and 
Bettina. Any friendship of ours would shut her out. 
That’s the plain truth, and you and I are old enough 
to know it, Anthony. 

“There’s much more that I could say to you 
Much more. But you must read between the lines. 
All my days I shall have in my heart the memory of 
my dear—big boy. Some day when I am old and 
you are old, we can be friends. I’ll look forward to 
that day, and it shall be my beacon light in the dark¬ 
ness. 

“ It’s good-bye, dear, for a long time—good-bye. 

“ Diana.” 

How still it was in the hemlock forest! A squir¬ 
rel which had ventured down from the branches flat¬ 
tened himself against the trunk of a tree and peered 
curiously at the figure which lay face downward on 
the fragrant carpet. One hand, outflung, caught at 
a little bush and held on as if in agony. The other 
hand grasped the sheets of gray paper, which, close- 
written, in feminine script, had brought a message 
of infinite pain and loss. 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


T HE yacht yard in which Bobbie’s boat was 
hauled up for repairs lay at the foot of the 
rocks to the north of Diana’s house. From the 
north porch, therefore, one could look down on the 
activities which had to do with the bringing in, and 
putting into shape the fine craft which through the 
summer were anchored in the harbor. A marine 
railway floated the boats in and out at high tide, and 
at such times creaked complainingly. 

It was on the north porch that Sophie and Bettina 
sat on the morning after Diana’s departure—Sophie 
knitting a motor scarf for Anthony, Bettina hem¬ 
stitching white frillso 

Below in the yacht yard the master gave orders, 
and the machinery of the marine railway began its 
clanking chorus. Bettina glanced over the rail. 
u Bobbie’s boat is going out,” she said, “ and he and 
tastin are on board.” 

Justfn saw her and called, “ May I come up ? n 
185 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

Bettina shook her head at him. “ If he thinks Pm 
going to shriek an answer to the housetops, he’s 
mistaken.” 

Again she shook her head at him, and Justin im¬ 
mediately offered excuses to Bobbie. 

“ You won’t mind,” he said, “ if I go up there ? ” 

Bobbie jeered. “ Talk about me! You’re here 
to-day and there to-morrow. Yesterday it was Sara, 
and now it’s Betty Dolce.” 

“ It was never Sara.” 

“ That’s what I said when I fell in love with Doris, 
but you wouldn’t believe me. And I can’t quite see 
the difference.” 

“ I’ve never cared for Sara in that way.” 

“ Then you have jolly well flirted with her.” 

“ Don’t try to be English with your ‘ jolly wells.’ ” 

Bobbie turned his back on Justin. “ I suppose, 
then, you’re not going to have lunch with me ? ” he 
said over his shoulder. 

“ Why can’t we all have lunch with you ? ” 

" Who is—all?” 

“ Betty, and Mrs. Martens—and me-■” 

“ Doesn’t Doris come into it? ” 

“ Of course, if you can get her up.” 

“ l can always get her up. You know that But 
186 


THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


there’s nobody just now in the world for you but 
Betty Dolce.” 

Nobody but Bettina ! Justin admitted it to him¬ 
self triumphantly. Please God, there should nevei 
be any one but Bettina! 

Perhaps something of his thought showed in his 
face, for Bobbie clapped him on the shoulder with & 
hearty, “ Go in and win her, old man, and we’ll have 
a double wedding.” 

44 If my wedding,” solemnly, 44 were as sure as 
yours, Fd burn incense to the gods.” 

44 Well, why don’t you make it sure ? ” 

“ I can’t. She stands on her pedestal, and I can’t 
reach up to her.” 

44 Man, you’re afraid of her.” 

44 It isn’t that. But I'm not in this race to fall out, 
Bobbie. I guess you can see that.” 

Bobbie nodded. 44 Anybody who has eyes can see 
it,” he said. 

The little yacht was in the water now, still help¬ 
less because of her furled sails. 

Justin, making a bridge of the small boats tied to 
the floating pier, gained dry land, and continued his 
conversation with Bobbie across the intervening 
space. 44 Suppose we cut the luncheon out, and go 
187 


GLORY OF YOUTH 

for a sail this afternoon. We can land off Gloucester 
way and have tea at the Lobster Pot.” 

“ Tea, meaning lobster sandwiches,” said Bobbie. 
“ Do you know, Justin, that the whole coast is blos¬ 
soming with lobster sandwiches? Once upon a 
time one ate muffins with their tea. But now no¬ 
body takes tea. They take coffee and lobster sand¬ 
wiches. And I don’t like sea foods, and I don’t 
drink coffee. Otherwise it is all right.” 

“We’ll have muffins and jam. And you and 
Doris shall have a table by yourselves, and Bettina 
and I, and we’ll ask Anthony to look after Mrs. Mar¬ 
tens.” He stopped. “ No, we won’t ask Anthony— 
he has a fashion of claiming Bettina. He’s her 
guardian, you know.” 

“ Look here, Justin. Did it ever occur to you that 
he’d like to be more—than a guardian ? ” 

“ It’s Diana for Anthony, Bobbie.” 

“ I’m not so sure. Doris says there is something 

queer about it all-” 

“ Queer?” 

“ Oh, about Diana having Bettina here, and then 

going away and leaving her-” 

“ Sara’s been talking. Doris wouldn’t think such 
unpleasant things, Bobbie—there isn’t anything be- 
188 



THE LITTLE SILVER RING 

tween Anthony and Betty. There can’t be any¬ 
thing-” 

But even as he said it he was stabbed by the mem¬ 
ory of Bettina’s radiant look of pride as she sat be¬ 
side Anthony on the night of the yacht club 
dance. 

“No man,” said Bobbie, “is going to wait for¬ 
ever, and Betty Dolce is a very lovely little lady. 
All the boys at the club are crazy about her, and if it 
hadn’t been for Doris there’s no telling how I might 
have felt—but Doris is the last one, Justin.” 

“Good. I’ll wigwag from the porch, Bobbie. 
Keep your eyes open for my signal.” 

Bettina, still hemstitching on white frills, welcomed 
Justin with a charming smile, but with a decided 
negative to his invitation. 

“I’m going out with Anthony.” 

Justin eyed her reproachfully. “ I told you once 
before that three was a crowd-” 

“ Oh, but this time it isn’t three, but two—Anthony 
and I are going alone in his little car, and we are to 
have dinner at Green Gables.” 

All the laughter died out of his face. “ Oh, I’m 
afraid you must think me all kinds of fool.” He 
turned abruptly to Sophie. “Mrs. Martens, you’ll 
189 




GLORT OF YOUTH 

go in Bobbie’s boat, won’t you ? He’s dying to ask 
Doris.” 

“ Do you really want me ? ” Sophie asked, brightly. 
“ Always, dear lady.” 

Bettina, bending over her frills, felt a sudden sense 
of desolation. 

'• Oh, dear,” she said, wistfully. “ Why do all the 
nice things come at once ? ” 

With that sigh, joy came back to Justin. 

He dropped into a chair beside her. “ What time 
will you get home to-night ? ” he asked. 

“ At eight. Anthony’s office hours begin then.” 
“ May I come up ? ” 

“ May he, Sophie ? ” 

“ It’s my bridge night at the club, dear*-” 

“ Oh-” 

“Please,” Justin pleaded. 

Sophie laughed. “Well, Delia shall chaperon 
you. Of course you may come, Justin.” 

Justin, signaling Bobbie a moment later, was con¬ 
scious of a wild desire to shout to the four winds of 
heaven the fact ’that for one little hour he was to 
have his goddess to himself. 

For Justin’s coming that night Bettina put on her 

white cr£pe tea gown with the little lace mantle. 

iqo 



THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


She was very tired after her ride with Anthony, 
There had been no reason for fatigue. He had been 
most kind and considerate. But Bettina’s little efforts 
at conversation had seemed to her childishly inade¬ 
quate. She had felt a sense of deadly depression. 
What should she do to interest him through all the 
years? Would he always have his mind on the 
things of which she knew nothing? Would she 
always try and never make a success of her efforts to 
enter into his life ? 

She had tried to tell him about Justin—about their 
compact of friendship—yet the words had died on 
her lips. Suppose he did not understand ? Suppose 
he did not approve ? Suppose he should forbid her 
to have a big brother—as he had forbidden her to 
fly in the “ Gray Gull " with Justin ? 

She dared not risk such a catastrophe. She clung 
desperately to the thought of Justin's youth and 
gayety. No, Anthony might not understand, so why 
should she discuss it with him ? 

At dinner Anthony roused himself and had played 
the gracious host. Yet on the return trip he had re¬ 
lapsed into silence, and she had again felt that sense 
of desperate failure. Oh, what kind of wife was she 
going to make for this grave Anthony, this great 
191 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

Dr. Anthony, who loved her and whom she 
loved ? 

It was on the return trip, too, that he had spoken 
of their coming marriage. “ Why can’t it be soon, 
Bettina ? ” he had said. “ Why should we wait, you 
and I?” 

She knew that there was no good reason. That a 
few weeks ago she would have been radiant at the 
prospect. 

Yet she told him, nervously, that if he didn’t mind, 
it would be better to wait—a little. There were 
things to do. 

And he had acquiesced, because of his masculine 
ignorance of the things which must really be done. 

“ The big house will be ready,” he said, “ when 
you are ready.” 

As she changed her gown on her return home, 
Bettina meditated soberly on the situation. Diana, 
when they had talked together, had pointed out that 
the women who married such men as Anthony must 
be content to make sacrifices. “ He belongs to the 
world, dear child,” she had said; “ you must remem¬ 
ber that, if you would be happy, It must be your 
joy to help Kim in his great work. ’ 

Bettina was beginning to be a little afraid of the 
192 


THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


future. It was not that she did not love Anthony— 
why, Anthony was the best man in the whole wide 
world. But everybody expected so much of her, and 
she was not quite sure that she should come up to 
the full measure of their expectations. 

As she came down the stairs, Justin was waiting 
for her. 

“ Oh, you little beauty,” his heart whispered ; “ you 
little white and gold beauty.” 

She had twisted her hair low on her neck, and her 
delicate lace mantle fell about her like folded gossamer 
wings. 

“ We will sit in the library,” she said. “ I have 
had a fire built. It is so damp and foggy outside. 
Sophie said you had to come in early from your sail 
on account of it.” 

“ We came near not coming in at all,” Justin told 
her. “ Doris was terribly scared. But Mrs. Martens 
was as cool as possible. It’s rather risky business 
outside on such a day. The rocks are like needle 
points under the water.” 

“ Pm a terrible coward.” 

“ You only think you are. When are you going 
to fly with me ? ” 

“ Never—please.” 


193 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


He had placed a chair for her by the fire, and 
stood leaning over the back of it. 

“ Never is a long time—little sister.” 

“ But I should be afraid.” 

“ Not with me.” 

Silence. 

“Not with me.” He came around so that he 
could look into her face. “ Would you be afraid with 
me?” 

She knew that she would not. She had not been 
afraid in the storm. But these things were not to be 
told. 

She did not meet his eyes, but shook her head. 

He was struck by her troubled look. 

“ Tired—little sister ? ” he asked. ♦ 

Her lips quivered. “ Very tired.” 

His heart yearned over her. She seemed such a 
little thing in that stately room with its high ceilings, 
its massive furniture, its book-lined walls. The only 
light came from the fire, and from a silver lamp which 
hung over Diana’s desk. On the table near Bettina 
was a bowl of pink hyacinths, which filled the room 
with the fresh fragrance of spring. 

He was conscious of these things, however, only as 
a setting for her beauty. And he was more than ever 
194 


THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


conscious of his desire to place himself between her 
and the world which might hurt her. “ Let me help 
you,” he said, earnestly. “ Don’t you know that my 
only desire is to serve you ? ” 

She considered him, wistfully. “ It’s dear of you 
to say that.” 

He sat down, leaning toward her. 

“ It isn’t dear of me. It isn’t even good of me. 
It’s simply self-preservation. Don’t you know, can’t 
you see that I have only one thought—your happi¬ 
ness ; only one wish—to be always near you ? ” 

There was no mistaking the significance of his 
flaming words. 

She shrank back. “ Oh, you must not say such 
things.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because. Oh, you called yourself my friend.” 

“ I am more than that,” he said, steadily. “ I am 
your lover.” 

“ Please—oh, please.” 

She began to sob like a little child. 41 Oh, big 
brother,” she told him, “ you have spoiled every¬ 
thing.” 

He knelt beside her chair. “ How have I spoiled 
things ? ” 


195 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


I wanted you for my friend.” 

“ I am your friend, dear one.” 

Very still and pale she fought against the sweet¬ 
ness of the truth he was forcing upon her. 

“ Please—go away,” she whispered. 

He rose to his feet. “ I shall not give you up.” 

She rose also, a frail little thing in her floating 
draperies, and laid her hand lightly on his arm. 

“ There are things which I cannot tell you. But 
I need a friend. If you care for me you’ll let me be 
your—little sister; you won’t trouble me by saving 
such things as you have said—to-night.” 

He tried with all the strength of his young man¬ 
hood to hide his own hurt and meet her need. 

“ I could kill myself for making you cry. I’m 
going to be good now. Really and truly your good 
big brother.” 

She glanced up at him with charming shyness. 

“ I’ll forget the things that you have said to-night— 
if you won’t say them again.” 

“ I shall not tie myself to an impossible promise,” 
he repeated, “but I am going to tie you to a 
promise.” 

“ Me ? ” She faced him. 

u Yes. Oh, see here,” boyishly, “ I brought some* 
196 


THE LITTLE SILVER RING 


thing for you to-night. I have noticed that you 
don’t wear rings, but I want you to wear this. ,, He 
opened his hand and showed her, lying on the palm, 
a litde silver ring. u It’s just a simple trinket that 
my sister wore as a child. I'd like to think that it 
would tie you to me always—for remembrance. I 
had hoped that you would let me give you another 
some time. But this—why, you can’t object to 
wearing it—and it would mean a lot to me if you 
would-” 

Her slender fingers touched it. “ How sweet of 
you to think of it-” 

“Then you’ll wear it?” 

“ Yes—because you are—my friend.” 

He took her hand in his and fitting the slender 
band first on one finger and then on another found a 
place for it at last on the little finger of her left 
hand. 

“ With this ring,” he said, softly, “ I take you 
always—for my friend-” 

Then he stood looking down at her. “ What a 
lovely little thing you are,” he said. “ You’re so 
tiny that I could pick you up and carry you off, yet 
I tremble when I touch your hand.” 

She drew a quick short breath. 

19 7 





GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ You aren’t to say such things to me—you know.” 

“ I’ll be good.” 

She knelt down like a child on the hearth-rug, and 
held her hand forward so that the light of the fire 
might shine on the silver circlet. 

“ Why, it’s engraved,” she said, “ with two hearts/* 

“ Yes,” he said ; “ your heart and mine.” 

As she bent forward, the thin chain which she 
wore about her neck swung forward from among the 
laces of her gown, and, “ tinkle, tinkle,” sounded the 
chime of the flashing rings which Anthony had 
given her. 

Justin saw her catch at them, saw her look of 
frightened appeal as she thrust them hurriedly back 
into their hiding-place. 

She rose slowly from the rug ; slowly she took the 
little silver ring from her finger; slowly she handed 
it back to him. 

“ Please, I must not wear it,” she said, with a 
break in her voice. “ I must give it back to you— 
my friend.” 


t 


198 


CHAPTER XV 


IN WHICH BETTINA FLIES 

I N th"5 clear days which followed, Justin gave his 
undivided attention to flying. Not once did he 
see Bettina. Not once did he join the party of young 
people of which he had been the leading spirit 
In vain did Bobbie formulate enticing plans. 

“ We’ll go to Cat Island with Captain Stubbs, 
fish all day, and have chowder on the rocks.” 

There had been one glorified fishing trip for Justin 
with Bettina. He wanted no other. 

“ I’ve wasted enough time,” he said shortly. “ I 
came* here to practice flying, not to do social 
stunts.” 

Sara urged him also. “ You haven’t played a set 
of tennis with me since you came up,” she com¬ 
plained. “ Of course I know you’re simply crazy 
over Betty Dolce, but that needn’t cut me out 
entirely. I thought my friendship meant something 
to you, Justin.” 

“ It does,” Justin told her, honestly, " but I’m not 
199 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

in a mood for tennis, and as for Betty Dolce, I 
haven’t seen her for a week.’* 

Sara was cheered by his statement. If his ab¬ 
sorption was simply in his flying machine, she could 
wait. Men always returned finally from machines 
to femininity. 

So Justin flew and flew, looking down at times 
upon the tops of the houses in the quaint coast 
towns, at other times having beneath him and above 
him blue sea and blue sky. 

And everywhere he went, he knew that people 
were craning their necks and crying out in wonder, 
for in this part of the world, at least, such aerial 
craft were rare visitors. 

And when he grew tired of great heights, he 
would let his shining ship slide down the air currents 
until it touched the water; then like a mammoth 
aquatic bird it would swim the surface, and the 
sailors on the big yachts would lean out over the 
sides and hail him, and the motor boats would fol¬ 
low him, until, at last, growing impatient of their 
close observance, he would rise again, higher and 
higher in the golden haze; earth would be left be 
hind, and he would be alone with his thoughts. 

And he thought always of Bettina. 

200 


IN WHICH BETTINA FLIES 


He thought of her as he had first seen her, in the 
shadowy room, with her shabby black dress and her 
white and gold beauty. He thought of her as she 
had come toward him under the lilacs, a flower among 
the flowers. Again he saw her dancing, like a 
wraith, in the moonlight; he saw her, in the little 
blue serge frock and shady hat, measuring him with 
her cool eyes ; and again, laying plates on the flap¬ 
ping cloth with white hands, or racing with him 
against the wildness of the storm. He saw her with 
her fair wet braids hanging to her knees, and her 
slender fingers twisting among the gold. He saw 
her with the light of the harness-room fire upon her 
as she promised to be his friend. 

But most of all he saw her as she had been that 
last night in the great library, frail and white in her 
floating draperies. 

“ You have spoiled everything,” she had said. 

How had he spoiled everything ? 

In one moment he would resolve to have it out 
with her. In the next he would plan to go away, to 
give her up, to forget her. 

A few weeks ago he had not known her. He had 
liked many women, but had loved none. He had 
teen heart-whole and fancy free. And now his life, 
201 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


his happiness, all of his future, were bound up in 
this little pale child with the wonderful hair! 

Up and up, higher and higher. It was like the 
flight of an eagle. 

And far below, on a porch which overhung the 
harbor, two women watched with beating hearts. 

“ Oh, why will he do it ? ” Sophie asked, in ago¬ 
nized tones. “ It is so dangerous.” 

Bettina caught her breath. “ Somehow I can't 
think of the danger,” she said. “ He isn’t afraid, 
and to me it seems—very wonderful—as if he had 
wings, and could fly—straight up—to heaven ” 

As Justin had thought all that week of Bettina, so 
she had thought of him ; every moment of the day, 
and into the night, the vision was upon her. 

Again she was held by those mocking eyes, again 
she was thrilled by that mad race in the rain. She 
saw him as he had been on the night of the yacht 
club dance, with his laughing air of conquest; as he 
had been in the great library, saying steadily, “ I am 
your lover-” 

He had gone from her, angry, that night, because 
she would give him no explanation of her refusal to 
take the silver ring. 

“ I cannot, I cannot,” she had repeated 
202 




IN WHICH BETTINA FLIES 


He had caught hold of her hands. “ You are not 
a flirt/’ he had said ; " you are too sweet and good 
for that—but what do you mean by your mys¬ 
teries - Oh, why can’t you tell me the truth ? ” 

She had looked at him, dumbly, and he had rushed 
away, leaving her unforgiven. 

She had written at once to Diana, asking to be re¬ 
leased from her promise to keep her engagement 
secret. “ People ought to know,” was the reason she 
gave. 

She had also telephoned to Anthony. She wanted 
to see him. To tell him that she would marry him 
as soon as he wished. That would be the solution. 
Then Justin would understand, and would forgive 
her. 

She felt that more than anything in the whole wide 
world she wanted Justin’s forgiveness. 

Anthony had come, and they had gone into the 
library where she had talked with Justin, and An¬ 
thony, preoccupied and silent, had placed a chair for 
her, and had stood where Justin had stood. And 
she had shivered and had begged, “ Sit down where 
I can see you.” 

He had taken the chair opposite her, and suddenly 
she had surprised herself and him by coming over 
203 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


to him, and slipping to her knees beside his chair, 
and sobbing with her face hidden. 

He had lifted her in his arms, and had soothed her 
like a child. “ What is it, dear heart ? ” he had de¬ 
manded. 

And, like a child, she had answered: 

“ Oh, please, let’s get married right away-” 

She had explained haltingly that she had been 
lonely since Diana went away, and unhappy. She 
—she missed her mother—and Diana’s house wasn’t 
her home. Sophie was dear, but, oh, it would be 
much better to be married as soon as she could get 
ready. 

“ And how soon will that be ? ” gravely. 

“ In a month. I think everybody should be told 
now.” 

He agreed. “ Perhaps it should have been an¬ 
nounced at once, but Diana seemed to think that it 
was best to wait.” 

“ Diana doesn’t know—everything.” 

“ No, but she is wise in many things.” 

“ Anthony ? ” 

“ Yes?” 

“ When we are—married, will you and Diana be 
iust as good friends?” 


204 



IN WHICH BET TIN A FLIES 


“ I hope that we may-” 

Something in his tone had made her look up and 
say quickly, “ Oh, I want you to be friends. You 
didn’t think that I was jealous—of Diana ? ” 

He had thought she might be. If she knew the 
truth she would surely have a right to be. But she 
did not know the truth. 

“ Why did you ask ? ” he probed. 

“ Because,” feverishly, “ it doesn’t seem right, does 
it, that just because a man and a woman are married 
they should never have any men or women friends ? 
There’s Bobbie, for example—and—and Justin—I 
shan’t have to be just your wife, shall I ? I can have 
them for friends ? ” 

“ Of course.” Yet even as he said it he wondered 
if he would care to have her allegiance divided—as 
his was divided. Oh, wise Diana, who had refused 
to be what she had no right to be, what he would 
not want his own wife to be, when once she was 
bound to him—the dear friend of another man. 

“ You and I,” he said, “ must try to be all in all to 
each other.” Then after a pause, “ Do you really 
love me, child ? ” 

“ Oh, yes.” Again she drew a sobbing breath. 

“ I am such an old fellow,” he said, in a troubled 
205 



GLORT OF TOOTH 


way, “ and you are made for bright things and gay 
things. I wonder if you will be happy with an old 

tired fellow like me-” 

In her simplicity she believed that his appeal was 
that of love, and out of the gratitude which she felt 
that she owed him she tried to respond. 

“ Oh, I do love you,” she whispered, “ and when 

we are married—we shall be happy-” 

Presently she tugged at the thin chain about her 
neck, and brought forth the rings. 

“ After this I shall wear them,” she said, “ for all 
the world to see.” 

When Anthony went home he answered Diana’s 
letter. He had sent her flowers on the day that she 
had left—her favorite violets and valley lilies. Be- 
yond that he had made no sign. 

But now he wrote : 

44 Oh, dear Wise Woman : 

“ During all the days since I received your 
letter I have not been able to see things as you 
wanted me to see them. I have raged against Fate, 
and have been pursued by Furies. I have shut my¬ 
self away, as far as possible, from the world. At one 
moment I have doubted your love for me ; at the next, 
I have resolved to follow you, play cave man, and 
carry you off. 


206 



IN WHICH BETTINA FLIES 


u I have read and reread your letter, trying to find 
some weakness to which I could appeal—but I could 
find none. But finally, as I read, one sentence began 
to stand out: ‘ We loved those who died—fighting/ 
When I got into the swing of that thought it stirred 
me. I am going to live—fighting—perhaps I shall 
die—fighting- 

“ To-day Bettina has told me that she will marry 
me in a month. She says that she has written you 
that it is best that people should know at once. 
And I think that it is best. I shall try to make her 
happy, but if I conquer life, if I ever do any great 
thing or good thing or wise thing, it will be because 
you have shown me the way. 

“ You say, * When we are old, we can be friends/ 
How I shall welcome old age, Diana! May the years 
fly swiftly I 

“ Anthony/' 

Having squared himself thus with the inevitable* 
Anthony, a little grayer, perhaps, a little more worn 
and worried, took up life where he had left off before 
Diana came home from Europe. 

He had seen nothing, of late, of Justin, except as 
he had glimpsed him, now and then, in the air. 

But on the morning on which Bettina and Sophie 
had watched the flight from their porch he came 
upon the young aviator, near the sheds, standing in 
the midst of an eager group of young folks, adored 
by the girls, envied by the boys. 

207 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


Amid the clamor of voices he caught the question, 
H Are you going up again this afternoon ? ” 

“Yes” 

Then, over their heads, Justin saw Anthony. 

“ Bring Betty Dolce up this afternoon,” he called, 
“ and HI show you through the shops. There are 
four ships beside mine in the sheds, and they’ll be 
sent out to-morrow. You and she may never have a 
chance to see so many together.” 

Anthony agreed, and called up Bettina. 

She assented eagerly. To-day, then, Justin should 
see her rings. He would ask for an explanation. 
She would tell him,—and he would understand. 
When he knew that she belonged to Anthony he 
would forget that he had wanted to be anything but 
her friend, and things would be as they had been before. 

So, knowing nothing of the hearts of men, she 
argued in her innocence. 

When she saw Justin, she felt that even through 
her gloves he must see the rings. But his eyes were 
on her face, and she burned red beneath his glance. 

On an impulse he had asked her. If Anthony 
brought her, he should see her, talk to her. That, 
for the moment, would give his heart respite from 
the pain which gnawed it. 

208 


IN WHICH BETTINA FLIES 


In the dimness of the great sheds Betinna flitted 
silently like a white moth from place to place. She 
left the conversation to Justin and to Anthony. 
When Justin made explanations she seemed to listen, 
but she did not look up. 

As a matter of fact, she heard not a word. Her 
mind was on her rings. She began to take off her 
gloves, slowly ; dreading, yet craving the moment, 
when Justin should look at her hands. 

But he was still explaining to Anthony : “ These 
pontoons do the trick. An aeroplane simply flies. 
But the hydro-aeroplanes fly and swim, and that’s 
what makes them so safe when there’s water to 
cross.” 

As he touched the delicate wires of the framework 
they gave forth a humming noise. “ When you’re 
up in the air,” he said, “ it sounds like the crash of 
chords.” 

Bettina’s gloves were off now. The big diamonds 
on her left hand seemed to catch all the light in the 
dim room and to blaze like suns! 

But Justin was thinking only of Bettina’s eyes un¬ 
der her drooping veil, and of her cheeks which 
burned red, and of her lips which were closed against 
any speech with him. 


209 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


They went on to the last shed, which was open, 
and from which a track descended into the water. 

Poised there, in the half-darkness, like a bird at 
rest, was another ship, ready for flight. 

“This is mine,” said Justin ; “ the ‘ Gray Gull.' I 
wanted to call her ‘The Wild Hawk/ but changed 
my mind. Do you remember Kipling’s 

Si ‘ The wild hawk to the wind-swept sky, 

The deer to the wholesome wold, 

And the heart of a man to the heart of a maid, 

As it was in the days of old ’ ? ” 

“ It is one of Diana’s favorites,” said Anthony. 
But Bettina said never a word„ 

And just then a boy came to say that Dr. Blake 
was wanted at the telephone. 

“It’s a hurry call,’ 1 Anthony came back to tell 
them. “ Would you mind walking home with Bet¬ 
tina, Justin ?” 

Would he mind? Suddenly all the stars sang! 

The moment that Anthony’s back was turned 
Bettina felt a frantic desire to hide her rings. What 
would Justin say when he saw them ? With Anthony 
there she had felt brave. But now—she turned the 
tings inward and began hastily to put on her gloves 
210 


IN WHICH BET TIN A FLIES 

Oh, to-night, after she reached home, she would write 
Justin a prim little note and tell him of her engage¬ 
ment 1 That would be better, of course! She should 
have thought of it before 1 

Crashing across her trembling decision came Jus¬ 
tin^ demand. 

“ Look here. Why can’t you fly with me now ? 
Just a little way, low over the harbor? Come-” 

It seemed to her that between them was beating 
and throbbing darkness, out of which his eager eyes 
said, “Come.” 

“ Oh, no,” she protested, with dry lips. “ Anthony 
wouldn’t like it” 

“What has Anthony to do with it?” He had 
taken her hands in his and was crushing them. The 
rings cut and hurt, but she made no sign ; she only 
looked at him large-eyed, and said, not knowing 
what she said, “ He has nothing to do with it-” 

“ Then come-” 

She was conscious that he was taking the pins out 
of her big hat. That he was winding her white chif¬ 
fon veil, nun-like, about her head, so that her face was 
framed. And within this frame glowed her hot 
cheeks and questioning eyes. 

“Come,’’ he said, again, and lifted her to her seat 
21 1 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


and fastened her in, and took his place beside her 
He whistled, and two men came, and the buoyant 
ship slid down the track toward the water; the big 
propeller waved for a moment its octopus arms, then 
started with a mighty roar. 

For a moment they swam the surface, then, light 
as a bird, the “ Gray Gull ” soared. 

Up and up, with the white yachts in the harbor 
just beneath them, with the gold of the sunshine 
surrounding them; and out of it his face bending 
down to her. 

“ Are you afraid ?” he asked, as he had asked in 
the storm. 

And she, with her cheeks still burning hot, looked 
up at him and laughed. 

“Afraid—with you? Oh, Justin, Justin, I could 
fly like this—forever.’’ 


CHAPTER XVI 


VOICES IN THE DARK 


APTAIN STUBBS’ cottage was one of the show 



places of the town. Built before the Revolu¬ 
tion, it was of typical English rural architecture—one¬ 
storied, with a square chimney, and with a garden 
which made it the delight of artists who came from 
far and near to paint it; in the spring crocuses 
starred the borders, violets studded the lawn with 
amethyst, pale irises and daffodils, narcissus and 
jonquils stood in slim beauty. Later came sweet 
peas, and the roses followed, hiding with their beauty 
the weather-beaten boards. The late summer 
brought nasturtiums in all their richness of orange 
and bronze-brown, and in the fall, the dahlias blazed. 

The captain lived alone, attending to his domes¬ 
tic affairs in a fashion which was the envy of less 
spick and span housekeepers. He would not have 
his home invaded by prying folk, but to his invited 
and welcome guests he would show his carved ivories, 
his embroideries, heavy with gold, his dragon-en- 


213 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

circled jars and vases. Everywhere was the charm 
of shining neatness, and flowers were everywhere. 

“ I think I should have looked for a wife,” the cap¬ 
tain had told Bettina and Miss Matthews one day 
when they had lunched with him, “ if it hadn’t been 
for my flowers. I don’t need a wife to cook for me. 
I’m a better cook than most women. And I don’t 
need a wife to mend my clothes, because every 
sailor can handle a needle. And I don’t need a wife 
to keep the house clean for me—there isn’t any 
woman on earth that makes things shine like a man 
who has been taught to rub brasses and scrub down 
decks. What I’d need a wife for would be to make 
things pretty, and to look pretty herself. But Lord, 
I ain’t the kind to attract a pretty woman—and so I 
just gave it up.” 

A faint glimmer of resentment had shone in Miss 
Matthews’ eyes. “ I guess most women are kept so 
busy that they haven’t time to think about their 
looks.” 

“ Well, if I had a wife,” the captain had said, “ I’d 
like to have her wear bright things. My mother had 
dimity dresses—there was a pink one, like a rose, 
and a green one that looked like the young grass in 
the spring, and there was one that made me think 
214 


VOICES IN THE DARK 

of forget-me-nots, or the sky when there isn’t a cloud 
in it.” 

Bettina had smiled at him. “ How pretty your 
mother must have been.” 

“ It wasn’t that she was so pretty ; it was her soft, 
quiet ways, and those bright-colored roses. And 
I’ve been looking for that kind of woman ever since.” 

“ If your mother,” little Miss Matthews had told 
him, “ had lived in this day of shirt-waists and short 
skirts, she’d probably be wearing high collars and 
sad colors with the rest of us.” 

The emphasis with which the little lady had offered 
her opinion and the flush on her face had made 
Bettina look at her with awakened eyes, “ Why—I 
believe she likes him She’d be really nice-looking 
if she’d fix her hair-” 

To-day, as Miss Matthews stopped for a moment 
at the captain’s gate to admire his sweet peas, she 
was not even “nice-looking.” She was pale and 
thin, and had a hoarse cough. 

“ I’m going home and to bed,” she saido “ I took 
cold that day in the rain, captain, and it hasn’t left 
me since, and I took more cold yesterday, going to 
school without my overshoes.” 

“ You come right in, and I’ll make you a cup of 

215 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


tea,” said the captain, hospitably. But Miss Mat* 
thews refused, wearily. 

As she turned away, however, Mrs. Martens came 
to get the flowers which were the captain’s daily 
offering for Diana’s table, and the little man extended 
a beaming invitation to both of them. 

“You pick your posies,” he said, “and I’ll get 
some tea for you and bring it right out here. You 
make her stay, Mrs. Martens ; she needs a rest.” 

Sophie smiled at the little teacher. “ You ought 
not to be out at all,” she said, sympathetically. 

“ School closes in four days,” explained little Miss 
Matthews ; “ after that I think I shall fall down and 
die, but I’ve got to keep up until then.” 

As the two women stood there at the gate together, 
they presented a striking contrast: Sophie in her 
black, modish garments, with the look upon her face 
of the woman who has been loved, and who has 
bloomed because of it; Miss Matthews, a faded 
shadow of what she might have been if love had not 
passed her by. 

“ How’s Betty?” Miss Matthews asked, as she sat 
down on a bench on the little covered porch, and 
watched Sophie’s slender fingers pull the sweet peas. 

Sophie straightened up. “ I’m worried about her,' 
216 


rOICES IN THE DARK 


she said. “ She and Anthony Blake went to see the 
air-ships, and I had a telephone message from An¬ 
thony that he had had a hurry call, and that Justin 
would look after Betty. That was two hours ago, 
and Betty hadn’t returned when I left to come 
here-” 

Captain Stubbs, appearing with a big loaded tray, 
gave important information. 

“ Did she have on a white dress ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“Then she’s gone flying with Justin Ford.” 

“ What ? ” Sophie stood up, and all the fragrant 
blooms fell at her feet. “ Oh, surely he wouldn’t 
take Betty up with him. It would be dreadful.” 

“ Now, don’t you worry,” said the captain; “ he 
ain’t goin’ to let a hair of her head get hurt—he's 
daffy over her.” 

“ Daffy ? ” Sophie stared. 

“Yep.” The captain set his tray on the rustic 
table. “ He and that Betty child went with me and 
Miss Matthews for a day’s fishin’, and at first we 
didn’t notice anything, but after a while we began to 
open our eyes—and, well, we ain’t blind, are we, Miss 
Matthews ? ” 

Miss Matthews, drinking her tea thirstily, took up 
217 


GLORT OF TOUTH 

the captain’s story. “ It rained, and the captain and 
I wrapped up and stayed by the boat. But those 
young folks ran off, and he was helping her along, 
and she was looking up at him—and—everybody 
knows what’s going to happen when two people look 
at each other that way.” 

“ And if they are flying,” the captain chuckled, 
“ they’re probably as near heaven as it’s possible to 
be this side of the pearly gates.” 

But Sophie would not treat the subject lightly. 
” It’s bad enough for a man to fly,” she said, “ but he 
had no right to take that child up with him. Where 
did you see them, captain ? ” 

et I was standing on those rocks out there, and I 
saw him rise up over the harbor. I could see that 
he had some one with him, so I went in, and got my 
glass, and sure enough, there she was, all in white, 
with a white veil wrapped tight about her head.” 

“ Which way did they go?” 

“ Straight out beyond the harbor, and up toward 
Gloucester way—but don’t you worry, Mrs. Martens; 
they’ll be back before they know it.” 

“ But I do worry,” Sophie declared, " and I shall 
certainly tell Justin what I think of his foolhardi 


ness. 


218 


VOICES IN THE DARK 


“ Well, you take your tea/’ said the captain, 
soothingly, “ and I’ll call up and see if they have 
come in.” 

Taking tea with the captain meant the tasting of 
many strange and wonderful flavors. The little man 
had clung to all the traditions of his seagoing fore¬ 
fathers, who had brought back from the Orient 
spicy things and sweet things—conserved fruits and 
preserved ginger, queer nuts in syrup, golden- 
flavored tea, and these he served with thick slices of 
buttered bread of his own making. 

“ You might have had a lobster,” he said to Sophie, 
* if it hadn't been so near your dinner time. I’ve 
got ’em fresh cooked.” 

But Sophie shook her head. " I like your sweet 
things better. Bobbie and I are the ones who don’t 
like lobster. He says that I’m a sort of oasis in a 
desert of shell-fish.” 

“ He’s got a nice boat,” said the captain, “ and he’s 
got a nice girl. I like Doris.” 

Sophie’s mind went back to Bettina. “ Oh, will 
you telephone, please, captain ? ” 

The captain came back with the news that nothing 
had been seen of the “ Gray Gull,” but that there was 
no need to worry, as the day was perfectly calm, and 
219 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


that, as he had Miss Dolce with him, he would cer¬ 
tainly not fly high. 

Sophie refused to be comforted. “ I shall tell An¬ 
thony,^ she said ; “ he must speak to Justin.” 

“ I don’t see what Blake’s got to do with it,” said 
the blunt captain; “ young Ford may tell him to 
mind his business-” 

Sophie’s head went up. “ Dr. Blake is Bettina’s 
guardian,” she said, “ and if Justin resents his inter¬ 
ference, I shall certainly be much disappointed in 
Justin,” 

Miss Matthews bristled. “You ought to have 
seen the care he took of her that day in the rain. I 
shall never forget the sight of those two young 
creatures running up the hill—the captain said then 
he had never seen a prettier pair.” 

In the midst of her worry Sophie felt an insane 
desire to laugh. Was this tragedy only or, after all, 
a comedy ? If Betty loved Justin ? Her imagination 
could scarcely compass the consequences of this pos¬ 
sibility. 

Sophie walked home with Miss Matthews, and, re 
turning to Diana’s, met Sara half-way. 

“ Is Bettina flying with Justin ? ” Sara asked, 
abruptly. 


220 


VOICES IN THE DARK 


" Captain Stubbs says that she is. I am very 
much displeased with Justin. It is really unpardon¬ 
able that Bettina should be subjected to such danger.” 

“ She didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to,” said 
Sara, sharply, “ but she’s crazy about him-” 

“ My dear- How do you know ? ” 

“Anybody can see it. And I guess it’s the real 
thing this time with Justin.” 

The wistful expression on the sharp little face 
touched Sophie’s kind heart. 

“ It’s hardly likely. They have known each other 
for such a short time.” 

“ Time has nothing to do with love,” said the 
sophisticated Sara. “ A man and a girl can meet 
and love in a week and live happy ever after. Oh, 
yes, they can. And they can know each other all 
their lives and be perfectly miserable. Dad and 
mother grew up together, and you’ve heard, Mrs. 
Martens, what a life they lived.” 

The story of the unhappiness of Sara’s parents 
was common property. Yet it hurt Sophie to see 
the hard look in the girl’s eyes. 

“ My dear child,” she said, “ everything depends 
on the amount of affection which two people give 
each other—time doesn’t count.” 


221 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


Sara was digging the point of her parasol into the 
sand. “ I’ve never seen anything like it with Justin. 
Why, he’s never asked any woman to fly with him. 
And when I looked up a while ago, and saw that he 
had-“her—I knew he wouldn’t have—asked her— 
if he hadn’t—cared ” 

“ Perhaps we are making things more serious 
than they really are,” Sophie said. But as the two 
women walked on together, her mental disturbance 
continued. What if Miss Matthews and Sara had 
spoken the truth ? How would it affect Bettina— 
how would it affect—Diana ? 

“ I can’t quite understand what all the men see in 
her,” Sara was saying. “ Of course she’s a beauty. 
But she’s so little and white—and she doesn’t seem 
so terribly clever-” 

“There’s a charm she has inherited from those 
sleepy Venetian ladies, who only waked now and 
then to flash a glance at some man—and hold him 
captive. Those beauties were without conscience. 
But Bettina has a Puritan streak in her which she 
gets from her mother—that’s what makes her such a 
fascinating combination, Sara. She’s like a little nun; 
yet one feels instinctively that back of that calm 
exterior there is force and fire.” 


222 



VOICES IN THE DARK 


Sara nodded. “ I know. Men don’t like the 
obvious. That’s why so many of us American girls 
fail to inspire grand passions. We have no sur¬ 
prises—no high lights or shadows—it’s all glare ’ 

“ I’m not sure, my dear, but that, in the long run, 
such women make men happier than the other kind, 
In this practical world there’s little room for varying 
moods.” 

“If Justin marries Bettina,” said Sara, “they'll 
live on rhapsodies.” She drew a quick short breath. 
“ There won’t be any commonplaces. They’re both 
made that way. It will be all romance and roses-” 

“ My dear—aren’t we taking things a bit for 
granted ? ” 

“You’ll see. You haven’t watched them as I have.” 

They had reached Diana’s house, and Sophie 
asked Sara to come in. 

“ I can’t It’s getting late and I must dress for 
dinner-” 

“Some other time then, dear?” 

“ Yes—I shall love it.” Then, with some hesita¬ 
tion. “ I’m afraid I’ve said more than I should-- ” 

Sophie bent and kissed her 0 “ Not a bit. I’m a 
perfect keeper of confidences—and not a sou) shall 

share what you’ve told me-” 

223 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


Delia met Mrs. Martens in the hall 
“ Dr. Blake’s on the porch,” she said, “ and he’s 

asking about Bettina-” 

“ Hasn’t she come ? ” 

“ No.” 

“What time is it, Delia- M 

“ Half-past six-” 

“ Of all the mad things to do,” said Anthony, as 
Sophie went out to him. “ I shall certainly call 

Justin to strict account—for asking her-” 

“She shouldn’t have gone,” Sophie said. “I 
can’t imagine how he induced her. She’s such a 
little coward.” 

“ They’ve been away three hours. I went over to 
the sheds and started a motor boat to search for 
them. They are beginning to realize over there 
that something may have happened.” 

“ Did Justin ask Betty while you were with her ? 99 
“ No. He simply showed us around, and said 
he’d walk home with her. Oh, the young fool, the 
young fool. He can risk his own life if he chooses— 

but he had no right to take—that child-” 

The telephone rang, and Sophie, answering, found 
Justin at the other end. 

“We’re at Gloucester, safe and sound. I’m aw^ 
224 




VOICES IN THE DARK 


fully sorry if you’ve worried, Mrs. Martens. But I 
could not get to a ’phone before this. We’ll come 
back by train, and Betty says you’re not to wait 
dinner. We’ll get something here. We’re all 
right, really—only sorry if you are upset.” 

“We are very much upset,” Sophie told him, 
severely. “Anthony is here, and he is extremely 
anxious.” 

“ He needn’t worry,” grimly. “ I can take care of 
her.” 

Mrs. Martens, explaining the situation to Anthony 
a few minutes later, refrained, tactfully, from giving 
Justin’s exact words. 

Anthony dined with her, then went off to see Miss 
Matthews, who had asked him to prescribe for her 
cold. 

“ Call me up when Bettina comes,” he said, as he 
left. 

Sophie promised, and watched him drive away in 
his little car. She had never seen him so nervous, 
so irritable. Was this what the thwarting of his life 
would mean—that he would let go of the serenity 
which had made his presence a benediction to his 
little world ? 

Or was it really love for Bettina which so disturbed 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


him ? Stranger things had happened. Diana was 
away—Bettina was beautiful—Justin was in the field 
to measure lances. 

With Peter Pan for company, Sophie waited on 
the porch for the recreant pair. 

When they arrived it was very dark, and she could 
not see their faces. But what had made that differ¬ 
ence in their voices—that subtle, thrilling difference ? 


CHAPTER XVII 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


W HEN Bettina cried, “ I could fly with you,— 
forever,” the light of a great joy leaped in 
Justin’s eyes. But he said nothing; he merely set 
his hand more steadily to steering. 

And Bettina was content to be silent; to drift on 
and on in this golden world, where there was just 
herself and the youth with the shining eyes. 

Far beneath them several racing yachts seemed 
flung like white flower petals on the surface of the 
sea ; two girls in red coats on the club-house tennis 
courts made glowing spots of color ; the crowds of 
people on the rocks, with their heads upturned to 
view the fairy ship of the air, were as formless and 
as lacking in life and movement as a patchwork 
quilt. 

Bettina felt no wonder. Her mood was one of 
heavenly enchantment; having passed the first gate 
of the great adventure, no small detail could seem 
strange. 

If in those exquisite moments she remembered 
227 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

Anthony, she gave no sign. Somewhere, perhaps, 
down there in the darkness, was a weary man work¬ 
ing ; there were sick people; pain was there and suf¬ 
fering. But such things belonged to an existence in 
which she had no part. It was as if she had died, 
and, rising above the earth, looked pityingly on 
those who still struggled and strove. 

She had a sudden whimsical memory of a Sunday- 
school song which had appealed to her childish 
imagination: 

“ I shall have wings, I shall have wings, 

I shall have wings, some day-” 

Years ago she had sung it with a half hundred 
enthusiastic youngsters. Her vision, then, had 
dealt, somewhat hazily, with golden crowns, with 
plumed pinions, and with ultimate bliss; but never 
had her imagination compassed such a moment as 
this! 

Above the noise of the motor Justin was aware of 
the lilt of her fresh young voice: 

“ I shall have wings, I shall have wings-” 

The humming wires keyed the hackneyed tune tc 
a sort of celestial harmony : 

228 


QLORT OF TOUTH 


“ Bright wings of love, from God above, 

To bear my glad soul away ——” 

Justin glanced down at her rapt face. 

“ Do you like it ? ” 

“ It is—heaven ! ” 

As she again took up the little song, he joined in, 
and they finished the last verse triumphantly ; then 
they looked at each other and laughed. 

“ I used to sing it in Sunday-school,” Bettina ex¬ 
plained. 

“ So did I,” and these simple sentences, in their 
uplifted mood, seemed fraught with great meaning. 

They were beyond the harbor now. Ahead of 
them and to the right was the open sea ; to the left, 
the town, with its church steeples like pin points be¬ 
neath them, its most imposing buildings no bigger 
than mushrooms, 

“ Are we so very high ? ” 

“ Not so high, perhaps, as it seems to you. It is 
perfectly safe.” 

On and on they went, leaving the lighthouse be¬ 
hind them, leaving behind them the harbor and the 
town, passing, finally, the great forest through which 
they had raced in the rain. 

Then Justin had asked, “ Do you remember ?” 

229 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

And Bettina had answered, “ Shall I ever forget ?’* 

The gulls circled below them, uttering mewing 
cries. It was as if they protested against the intru¬ 
sion of this bird man and bird woman in a realm 
which had belonged to winged things since th*» 
world began. 

They came presently to a long and lonely stretch 
of beach, above which Justin sailed, low, and, relax¬ 
ing his vigilance for the first time, he began his 
eager wooing—all fire and rapture. 

And Bettina trembled—and listened. 

It seemed to her that throughout her life she had 
waited to hear that which Justin was saying to her now. 

•'You were made for me—dear. In my dreams 
there has always been a girl like you—little and 
white and helpless—but vivid, too, in flashes. When 
I saw you for the first time in that dark room on that 
rainy day I knew that you were—mine. I know I’m 
not good enough for you. I know that if you should 
ever marry me I should thank God on my knees 
every day of my life. But it isn’t conceit which 
makes me believe that you and I have been coming 
toward each other always. I don’t know why you 
gave me back the silver ring. At this moment I 
don’t c&re—although the other night my world went 
230 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


to pieces—but just now, what you said,—and the 
way you said it, that you would fly with me forever, 
—made me feel that all the things I had hoped were 
true-” 

Bettina felt as if their souls were bared. What 
conventional thing could she say which would hide 
her joy ? Her eyes would tell him though her lips 
might not. 

As if he read her thoughts he bent down to her. 
“ Look at me,” he urged, and again, “ My dear one— 
is it, then, really—true ? ” 

She knew now that she was Justin’s and he 
was hers until the end of time. By all the white 
wonder of her thoughts she knew it. By all the 
quickened blood in her beating heart. What she 
had felt for Anthony was the affection of an un¬ 
awakened nature—she had given him gratitude, 
friendship—but between them were the years across 
which she must look somewhat timidly; between 
them was his sadness, which oppressed her, and his 
profession, which she feared. 

But here was youth, which she understood, and 
romance, for which she had longed, and love at 
white-heat 


231 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


Thus, as she soared with Justin, she forgot past 
promises and future judgments, and whispered, “ It 
is true-” 

After that they talked in the language of youth 
and love. 

“ Do you know how pretty you are ?” 

“ You think that I am pretty because you—like 
me.” 

“ I think it because I—love you.” 

The echo of their light laughter went trailing after 
them as the song of a lark trails through the blue. 

Softly, at last, Justin brought his shining ship down 
to the surface of a little bay. 

Two men at work on the beach came out in a dory 
in answer to his call. 

They were eager and curious, and glad to tow the 
queer craft into shallow water, to make it fast, and 
to watch it for a time. 

“ We will walk about for a bit,” Justin said to 
Bettina, “ and go back at sunset.” 

Bettina demurred. “It's really late now,” she 
said, with her eyes on the eastern horizon, where the 
first gray haze of twilight was beginning to gather. 

“ Look the other way. There’s all the gold of tht 
west, and it won’t be dark for hours.” 

232 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ But Sophie will worry.” 

“ She will think you’re with Anthony—he’s nice 
and safe.” 

“ Perhaps some one will have seen us, and have 
told her, and anyhow, I must get back for dinner.” 

“ Any one may eat a dinner, but for you and me 
there may never be another moment like this 1 ” 

Following a steep path they came presently to a 
curious and lonely spot. Here was an ancient bury¬ 
ing place. On a rocky headland, overlooking the 
entrance to the harbor and the wide sweep of the 
sea beyond, the first dead of the colony had been 
buried ; here lay the forefathers of the town. Many 
of the stones had fallen; others stood sturdily where 
they had stood for centuries. Strange old stones 
they were, of gray slate, etched with forbidding sym¬ 
bols of skulls and crossbones. 

In one corner was a monument of later erection. 
It had to do with the memory of more than a hun¬ 
dred men who had been lost in a September gale off 
the fishing banks. 

Bettina shivered as she read the carved history. 

“ Oh, how did the women stand it,” she said, “ to 
come here to the top of this hill, week after week r 
watching? To wonder and worry and fear. To 
233 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


wake in the middle of the night and know that their 
husbands and lovers were out in the blackness and 
storm. And then at last to see the boats coming in v 
and not know whether the ones they loved were on 
board—to find, perhaps, at last, that they were not 
on board. How did they stand it? 

As you would have stood it, if you had been one 
of them-” 

“ Would I ? ” wistfully. “ Do you think I could 
be brave and patient ? ” 

“You could be everything that is good and beau¬ 
tiful -” 

She did not smile or blush. All the glamour of 
their flight had fallen from her. The old cemetery 
with its gruesome headstones oppressed her. The 
purple shadows of the twilight seemed to circle the 
world. 

She shuddered and one little hand caught at the 
sleeve of Justin’s coat. 

He glanced down at her. “ My dear one, what is 
it?” 

Her frightened eyes pleaded. “ I—I don’t like it 
here. I’m afraid.” 

u With me—silly* You weren’t afraid up there in 
the clouds.” 


234 




GLORT OF TOUTH 

" This is—different. It seems down here as if the 
whole world were—dead-” 

“ You’re tired. Look here, I’m going to carry you 
up this hill.” 

As he said it, masterfully, she felt herself swept up 
into his strong young arms. 

“ Put me down ! ” 

He drew his head back to look at her. 

“ Why ? ” 

“ I’ll tell you in a minute. Put me down.” 

He set her on her feet, and she stood there, sway¬ 
ing, her lips parted. 

At last she said, “ I love you,” but held out her 
hand as if to keep him from her. “ I love you—but 
I mustn’t let you—love me.” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ Because—oh, Justin,” she was stripping off her 
gloves, “oh, I’ve tried to hide these,” pitifully, 
“ to hide these from you. I wanted my little mo¬ 
ment of happiness, too. But now you’ve got to 
know.” 

The gloves were off, and the last rays of the set¬ 
ting sun, striking the great jewels, brought fire which 
seemed to blind Justin’s eyes. 

He caught her hands in his, roughly. “ Who gave 
235 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


them to you ? ” he demanded. “ Who gave them to 
you, Bettina ? ” 

But all his doubts and fears had crystallized to cer¬ 
tainty before she whispered, “ Anthony.” 

“Do you mean that you are going to marry— 
Anthony ? ” 

She nodded. “ He loves me, Justin.” 

“ And you love him ? ” 

Her head went up. “ I told you just now that—I 
loved—you. But I’ve promised Anthony. He 
asked me that day before I went to Diana’s. The 
day after I first saw you. And he was so good, and 
I was so lonely, that I thought that—I cared. I 
didn’t know then what it meant—to care.” 

His eyes, which had been stern, softened. 

“ And now that you know,” he asked, “ what are 
you going to do ? ” 

She twisted her fingers nervously. 

“ I don’t know,” she faltered. “ What shall I do, 
Justin?” 

“ Oh, my dear,” he said, brokenly, “ Anthony is 
my friend. I can’t steal you—like a thief—in the 
night-” 

Her lips quivered. “ I knew that—you’d say that. 
I am glad—you—said it.” 

236 


GLORr OF TOUTH 

He turned away. “ If you knew how hard it is for 
me to say it.” 

She laid her little hand on his arm. 

“ If you only won’t be angry with me.” 

He turned back to her. “ I am not angry,” he 
said, “ only I have been—all sorts of a fool.” 

She sank down hopelessly on a broken stone bench, 
backed by evergreen trees. “ You haven’t been a 
fool,” she said. “ I should have told you. But I 
couldn’t. Diana wouldn’t let me.” 

“ What did Diana have to do with it ? ” 

“ She said that Anthony’s friends ought to know 
me before the engagement was announced.” 

“ So you and she have talked it over, and Sophie, 
I suppose—and how many others ? ” His laugh was 
not good to hear. 

“ Oh, please. I don’t think any of us could have 
guessed that—things would have turned out like 
this. I didn’t dream how you felt and how I felt un¬ 
til the other night, when you tried to give me the 
little ring. Then I knew.” 

“ That you loved me ? ” 

“ No. That you loved me. I—I didn’t know the 
other until to-day when you said— 4 Come.’ ” 

41 Didn’t you know that day in the rain ? ” 

237 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ No, oh, no. I thought it was just because we 
were both young, and good friends, and happy to¬ 
gether.” 

“ And I thought it was because our spirits met— 
in the storm.” 

He flung himself down beside her. “ To me the 
whole thing seems monstrous. Anthony is years too 
old for you, even if you loved him. And you don’t 
love him.” 

“ Yet I can’t break a promise, can I ? ” 

He moved restlessly. 

“If you told him, he would release you, of course. 
But somehow I’d feel an awful cad to have Anthony 
think that I had taken you from him.” 

“ How do you think I should feel ? ” The color 
flamed in her cheeks. “ Don’t you know that a 
woman has just as fine a sense of honor in such 
things as a man ? ” 

As she made a movement to rise, he caught at the 
floating ends of her white veil, and held them, as if 
he would thus anchor her to himself. 

“ Forgive me,” he pleaded. “ I’m afraid I’m 
too desperately unhappy to know what 1 am 
saying.” 

“ I know—I’m unhappy, too.” 

238 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


With the fatalism of youth they had accepted 
their tragedy as final. He still held the end of her 
veil in his hand, but her face was turned away from 
him. 

A little breeze came from the west, and there was 
a dark line of cloud below the gold. 

“We shall have to go home on the train,” Justin 
said, as he noted the whitecaps beyond the bay. 
“ There’s too much wind to make it safe for us to 
fly.” 

“ Then we must go now. It is very late.” 

“ I can telephone Sophie from the gatekeeper’s 
house. It’s on the other side of the church. And 
I'll telephone to the men to come after the hydro¬ 
plane.” 

She assented listlessly, and they walked on. 

The church, when they reached it, showed itself 
an ancient edifice. Built of English brick, it had 
withstood the storms of years. Its bell still rang 
clearly the call to Sunday service, and at its font 
were baptized the descendants of the men who slept 
in the old cemetery. 

As they reached the steps, a man who was dig¬ 
ging a grave hailed them. “ If you and your wife 
would like to look in,” he said to Justin, (i you can 
239 


GLORT OF TOUTH 

bring the key to me at the gate. I’ll be there when 
you come.” 

He unlocked the door for them. They heard his 
retreating footsteps, and knew that they were alone. 
Then Justin spoke with quickened breath. “That is 

«is it should be—my wife-” 

Out of a long silence she whispered, “ Please— 

we must not—we must not-” 

“ Surely we have a right to happiness- ■” 

She had left his side, and her voice seemed to 
come faintly from among the shadows: “ Hasn’t 
everybody a right to happiness ? ” 

“ Why should we think of everybody—it is my 
happiness and yours which concerns us—sweet¬ 
heart.” 

She did not answer, and, following her, he found 
that she had entered one of the high-backed, old- 
fashioned pews, and was on her knees. 

Hesitating, he presently knelt beside her. 

It was very still in the old church—the old, old 
church, with its history of sorrow and stress and 
storm. One final blaze of light illumined the stained 
glass window above the altar, and touched the bent 
heads with glory—the bright uncovered head and 
the veiled one beside it. 


240 





GLORT OF YOUTH 


Then again came dimness, darkness—silence. 
They were in the vestibule of the church before he 
spoke to her. 

“ Did you pray,” he asked, “ for me ? ” 

“ I prayed for all men and women—who love-” 

He laid his hands on her shoulders and gazed 
down at her with all of his heart in his sad young 
eyes. “ There must be some way out of this,” he 
said. “ Surely God can’t be so cruel as to keep us 
apart. Why, we are so young, dear one, and there’s 
all of life before us—think of all the years.” 

The look with which she met his glance had in 
it all the steadfastness of awakened womanhood. 
“ You said out there that I could be- brave and 
patient. Help me to be brave—big brother.” 

“ Don’t,” he said, hoarsely; “ don’t call me that. 
It’s got to be all or nothing. But whatever comes, 
whether you marry me or marry Anthony—I’m going 
to love you always. I’m going to love you until I 
die, Bettina.” 


241 


CHAPTER XVIII 


PENANCE 


M ISS MATTHEWS’ cold proved to be bron¬ 
chitis, and Bettina insisted on nursing her, 

“ Please let me,” she said to Anthony the morn¬ 
ing after her flight with Justin. “ I suppose Fm in 
disgrace, anyhow, and this shall be my penance. 
Only it won’t be very severe punishment, for I shall 
love to take care of her.” 

“ What good is penance if you aren’t penitent ? 
Pm perfectly sure that if that young rascal should 
ask you to go again you’d go,” 

“ It was glorious.” 

“ But very dangerous.” 

She shrugged, “ You do dangerous tnings every 
day. Doesn’t he, Sophie ? ” 

“ Of course.” 

“That’s different I do such things to help 
others.” 

“ And I do them to please myself.” 

“ And to please Justin ? ” There was an impatient 
242 


PENANCE 

note in his voice. “ I have told him that he must 
not ask you again, Bettina.” 

“ What did he say ? ” 

He didn’t say a word.” Anthony smiled at the 
memory. “ He just looked at me as if he would 
like to punch my head, and turned on his heel and 
left me.” 

“ Are you angry with him ? ” anxiously. 

“ He’s angry with me.” 

“ Oh, dear! ” Betty sighed. “ Sophie gave me a 
terrible lecture when I came home last night; didn’t 
you, Sophie? And now you and Justin have fallen 
out, and I’m the cause of all the trouble. I’ll go 
and look after Letty Matthews, and you can learn to 
love me when I’m gone.” 

In spite of the lightness of her tone, there was a 
quiver in her voice which brought both of them to 
her feet. 

“ My dear child-! ” 

“ Betty dear-” 

Bettina smiled at them with misty eyes. “ Please 
let me go, and when I come back everything will be 
straightened out—and we’ll all live—happy—ever 
after-” 

Nothing that they could say would change her 
243 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


decision, and they were vaguely troubled by it, 
feeling that she had erected between herself and 
them some barrier of reserve which they could not 
break down. 

Sophie voiced this in a worried way when Bettina 
had gone up to pack the little bag which Anthony 
was to convey with her precious self to Miss Mat¬ 
thews. “ Perhaps I shouldn’t have said so much, 
but when she came she seemed so unconscious of 
the dreadfulness and danger that I’m afraid I scolded 
a bit.” 

“ She’s such a child ! Do you think she will ever 
grow up ? ” 

“ Of course. Diana feels that she has many 
womanly qualities-” 

Anthony, standing by the window, fixed his eyes 
steadily on the blue distance as he asked : 

“ What do you hear—from Diana?” 

“ I’ve a letter.” Sophie rummaged among the 
papers on her desk. “ And there’s a bit at the end 
that will please you—you know Diana and her 
enthusiasms-” 

" Yes, I know-” 

His head was still turned away as she opened the 
thick folded sheets. 


244 


PENANCE 


“ Shall I read it to you ? ” 

“ Please.” 

“ She says she likes the hotel, and the people 
although she doesn’t see much of them. But this is 
the part you’ll appreciate : 

“ ‘ There’s a wonderful bit of woodland, Sophie, 
back in the hills, and every day I go there and 
dream. I thought for a while that I had lost my 
dreams—but now they are coming to me again in 
docks—like doves. And yesterday came the best 
dream of all. I have been trying to think what I 
could do with my future, and I’ve thought of this: 
I’ll build a place up here in the forest where An¬ 
thony’s sick folk can come when they begin to get 
well, and thus I can finish the work which he 
begins-’ ” 

She paused, as Anthony faced her. “ Why didn't 
she write that to me ? ” he demanded, almost roughly. 
“ Didn’t she know it would mean more to me than 

to you—than to anybody-? ” 

Then with the sudden consciousness that he was 
showing his heart he stammered, “ Forgive me—but 
you know what I think—of Diana ? ” 

Sophie was infinitely tactful. “ Of course I know 
what you think of her—she’s the most wonderful 
245 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


woman in the whole wide world ; and that’s a great 
plan of hers—to have a haven for your conva¬ 
lescents.” 

He made no answer, but just stood very still, 
looking out, and when Bettina came down with her 
little bag, they went away together. 

Miss Matthews in a gray flannel wrapper was 
shivering over an inadequate fire. 

“ Why aren’t you in bed ?” the doctor asked. 

“ Because there is no one to answer my bell, and 
no one to wait on me—and I’m perfectly sure that 
if I ever let myself go to bed I shall die.” 

“ Nonsense,” briskly. “ I’ve brought Betty back 
with me, and she’s going to stay and see that you’re 
made comfortable.” 

Miss Matthews’ face brightened. “ She’s the only 
person in the world that I’d have fussing over me.” 

“ I shall stay here and boss you to my heart’s con¬ 
tent,” Bettina told her. 

“Oh, dear,” Miss Matthews sighed rapturously, 
“how good that sounds. I—I want to be bossed. 
I’m so tired of telling other people what to do— 
that last day at school I thought I should go to 
pieces.” 

“ Well, you’re not going to pieces,” Anthony as- 
246 


PENANCE 


sured her ; “ you’re going to bed. And when I come 
back I shall expect to find you asleep.” 

Bettina, coaxing Miss Matthews to be comfortable, 
brushed her hair in front of the revived hre. 

“ What pretty hair you have,” she said, as she 
held it up so that the light might shine upon it. 
“ What makes you spoil it by doing it up in that 
tight knot ? ” 

“ I don’t know any other way,” wailed Miss Mat¬ 
thews. “ I’ve never had time to be pretty.” 

“I’m going to braid it,” said Bettina, “and by 
evening it will be waved.” 

Miss Matthews submitted, luxuriously. “ It seems 
so nice to have some one fussing over me. I don’t 
believe anybody ever brushed my hair before.” 

Bettina. having hunted out a box of her own be¬ 
longings, was trying different colored ribbons on the 
little lady’s pale brown locks. 

“ Do you know, Letty, pink is your color? Yes, 
it is. Blue makes you look ghastly. Now I’m go¬ 
ing to tie this twice around your head so that it will 
hide all the tight pigtails—I got that idea from 
Diana.” 

As she finished the sqmewhat elaborate process* 
there came steps outside. 

247 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ It’s just me,” said the voice of the little captain. 

Bettina peeped through the door, and announced - 
“ Miss Matthews is sick.” 

“ I know. I met Anthony Blake, and he told me; 
and what I want to know is, can I do anything-- ? ” 

“ Nothing—thanks.” 

“ Yes, he can,” said the hoarse voice of the invalid. 
“ He can come in. If he doesn’t mind my head, I 
shan’t mind him.” 

The captain, entering, found Miss Matthews in a 
big chair, her feet covered by a steamer rug, her 
gray flannel apparel hidden by a white wool shawl 
which had belonged to Betty’s mother, and topping 
all was the wonderful head-dress of rose-colored rib¬ 
bon, beneath which Miss Matthews’ plain little peaked 
face looked out wistfully. 

“ Well, now,” said the captain, as he shook hands, 
<s that pink becomes her, don’t it ? ” 

Miss Matthews blushed. “ Betty fixed it” 

“ I always did like bright things on wimmen, n 
said the captain, earnestly, “ and I like that pink.” 

“ Of course you do,” said Betty ; “ all men like 
pink, except those who like blue, and now you must 
go away, for I’ve got to put my patient to bed.” 

“ Don’t you cook anything for her,” said the cap 
24S 



PENANCE 


tain, as he backed out of the door, his eyes still 
gloating over the rosy-beribboned lady on the hearth¬ 
rug. “ I'll bring you over a bowl of hot chowder 
to-night, and if there’s anything else you want, you 
just let me know.” 

“ Delia will look out for the other things,” said 
Betty ; “she’s going to send little Jane to help me. 
But we shall be very glad to have the chowder.” 

With Miss Matthews asleep at last, Bettina sat 
down to write a note to Justin. 

It was very brief, and began abruptly : 

“ I am going to tell Anthony. I lay awake all 
night and thought it out. It wouldn’t be fair for me 
to marry him—unless he knew. I’d get to be just a 
shivery shadow, Justin, afraid that he would find that 
I didn’t love him—that I loved somebody else. 

“ But I can never tell him with his grave eyes 
watching me, so I’m going to write, now—to-night. 
It almost seems as if poor Letty had been made a 
sort of instrument of Providence so that I could be 
here at this time. I couldn’t stay at Diana’s with 
everything over between me—and Anthony. 

“ Oh, Justin, will he ever want to be friends with 
us again ? Will Diana ever forgive us ? 

“I wish you were here. Yet you mustn’t be here 

249 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


—not until everything is settled. Somehow 1 don't 
dare think that we can ever be happy. It doesn't 
seem right to think of it, does it ? 

“ But I love you.” 

She gave her note to the little captain when he 
came with the chowder. 

He brought something beside the chowder. In a 
square box, smelling of sandalwood, was an exquisite 
kimono of palest pink cr£pe, embroidered with wis¬ 
teria blossoms. 

“ It has been lying in an old trunk for years," he 
exulted, as he shook it out before her delighted eyes. 
“ When I saw her," he nodded toward the door of 
the inner room, “ when I saw her with that pink rib¬ 
bon in her hair, it just came to me how nice it would 
be if she had a wrapper or somethin' to go with it. 
And after I got home I went rummagin' around un¬ 
til I found this." 

“ It's lovely," said Bettina; “ she'll be simply crazy 
over it, captain." 

“ The funny part of it is that I bought it in foreign 
lands, thinking that some day I might get married, and 
I'd give it to my wife—and now I'm givin' it to her." 

Bettina sparkled. “ Oh," she said, “ I believe 
you’re in love with her, captain." 

250 


PENANCE 


The captain sat down in a chair by the fire. 
4 Well/’ he said earnestly, “ it’s like this. I ain’t 
ever thought of her that way, exactly. It always 
seemed to me that she knew so much, and that I was 
such a rough old fellow. But lately—well, she’s 
been lonely, and she ain’t been well. And all of a 
sudden it has kind o’ seemed to me that, if I ain’t 
smart, I’ve got a tender heart, and I’d know how to 
make a soft nest for her to live in, and it seems to 
me that maybe, after all, she might throw me in 
along with all the rest of the reasons for getting mar¬ 
ried. I guess most men are sort of thrown in. Of 
course the wimmen don’t know it, but what they get 
married for is to have a parlor of their own, and a 
kitchen of their own, and somebody to fuss over, and 
it don’t make much difference what man they hang 
their tender affections on, just so he provides the 
kitchen and parlor. Now here’s Letty Matthews, all 
tired out with teaching, and this is my time to step 
in. If she’ll ever take me she’ll take me now, and 
as soon as she’s well enough to hear me say it, I’m 
going to ask her.” 

“ If Letty marries you, it will be because she loves 
you—she’s that kind. She d die sooner than take a 
man for what he could give her.” 

251 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


The captain’s face fell. “ Oh, Lord,” he groaned, 
*she won’t take me just for—myself-” 

“ You try and see.” 

“ If you can put in a good word for me,” the cap¬ 
tain urged anxiously, “ you do it.” 

“ When a man wants to marry a woman,” said his 
young adviser, “there’s just one way to get her. 
He must just keep at it, captain.” 

The captain stood up. “ Well, what I want to say 
is this—I shan’t ever look at my garden without 
thinking of her sittin’ some day among the flowers, 
I shan’t ever eat a meal without thinking how nice 
she’d look pourin’ out my coffee in a nice bright 
dress, and I shan’t ever go for a day’s fishin’ without 
seein’ her in the other end of the boat. And every 
time I shut my eyes, I’ll think of her wearin* pretty 
things like my mother used to wear. Why, I’ve got 
money, that I can’t ever use, just lying in the bank 
and waitin’ for somebody to come and spend it. 
And while I like my own way of doin’ things, I can 
get a likely man to help around the house.” 

“ A man ? ” 

“ Yep. I couldn’t ever boss a maid. And I ain’t 
goin’ to let her ”—he jerked his head toward the inner 
door— “ I ain’t goin ? to let her drudge and cook and 
252 


PENANCE 


scrub. So I’ll get some lad that’s been a ship’s cook, 
and don’t like the sea, and we’ll keep things nice for 
her, and she can fuss around the garden and make 
calls on the neighbors and sit with me when I smoke. 
For wimmen, after all,” concluded the wise little man, 
“ are liked best by the men when they’ll listen. A 
talkin’ woman may catch a man, but the kind that 
holds him is the kind that sits and listens.” 

He went away after that, and Bettina carried the 
pink robe to Miss Matthews. “ Oh, Letty, dear,” she 
said, “ just see how gorgeous you’re going to be.” 

She opened the box, and let out a whiff of foreign 
fragrance. But when the beautiful pale-tinted thing 
was laid across the bed, and Bettina had explained 
that it was the captain’s gift, Miss Matthews looked 
solemnly at her friend. “ If you think I’m going to 
wear that,” she croaked, hoarsely, “ you’re mistaken.” 

“ Of course you’re going to wear it.” 

“ Of course I’m not. I—I’d be afraid.” 

“ Afraid—oh, Letty.” 

“Yes, I would. I’ve never worn such things. I’d 
be afraid I’d get a spot on it, and it wouldn’t come 
out. Now when a woman like me has a thing like 
that she just lays it away to look at Then she always 
knows that she has one lovely garment. But F she 
253 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


wears it, she feels that the day will come when it will 
be gone, and then—she won’t own one beautiful 
thing in the wide world—not one single beautiful 
thing.” 

Bettina bent over her soothingly. “ There,” she 
said, “ you wear it once, Letty, and then, if you wish, 
you can put it away.” 

Late at night, Anthony came on his last round of 
calls and urged that Bettina should have a nurse to 
take her place. But Bettina refused. 

“ I took care of mother alone,” she said. Sl I can 
surely do this.” 

Every moment that she was with him she was 
conscious of the difference in her attitude toward 
him. She had a nervous fear that he might notice 
the change in her, that he might read her heart with 
his keen eyes. 

But he seemed preoccupied, and just before he 
went away he said : 

“ You haven’t promised me one thing, Bettina.” 

“ What, Anthony ? ” 

“That you won’t fly again with Justin. I think I 
shall have to ask that you make it a definite promise ’’ 

“ Suppose I won’t—promise.” 

254 


PENANCE 


“ I think you will,” he said, in his decided way, 
“ You and I, all through our lives, will each have to 
defer to the wishes of the other. If I knew that a 
thing worried you greatly I am sure I should refrain 
from doing it—I should like to know that you felt 
that way about me—Bettina.” 

Something of the old tender quality had crept into 
his voice. Once more they were alone in the 
shadowy room—but outside now was the darkness of 
the night instead of the darkness of the storm. Per¬ 
haps some memory of her first impulsive response to 
his wooing came to him as he took both of her hands 
in his. “There’s some barrier between us of late,” 
he said. “ I’m a plain blunt man, and I don’t know 
what I may have said or done. Have I hurt you in 
any way, child ? ” 

Here was Fate bringing opportunity to her. This 
was the moment for revelation, confessioa 

But she could not tell him. 

She stood before him with bent head. 

“ You haven’t hurt me, but there is something I 
should like to say to you. May I write it—An¬ 
thony ? ” 

He put a finger under her chin and turned her face 
up to him. 


25s 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ Are you afraid of me—dear ? ” 

“Oh, no-” 

“ Then tell me now-” 

“ Please—no.” 

For a moment he studied her drooping face, then 
he patted her on the cheek. “ Write it if you must 
—but you’re making me feel like an awful bear, 
Bettina” 

He sighed and turned away. 

She put out her hand as if to stop him, but drew 
it back. Then she followed him into the hall, and 
stood watching him, with the light from the old 
lantern again making a halo of her fair hair. But 
this time she did not go down to him in the dark¬ 
ness. The spell was upon her of a pair of mocking 
eyes, and of a voice which had sung with her celestial 
harmonies. 


25? 


CHAPTER XIX 


HER FATHER’S RING 

I T was late the next night before Bettina found 
time to write a letter to Anthony. The town 
clock had struck ten, and Miss Matthews was asleep 
in the inner room. As Bettina settled herself at her 
desk there came through the open window the fra¬ 
grance of the sea—the night was very still; she could 
hear across the harbor the beat of the music in the 
yacht club ballroom, and there was the tinkle of a 
mandolin on some anchored boat. 

She found it difficult to put on paper the things 
which she decided must be said. Striving to ex¬ 
plain she tore up sheet after sheet, then, growing 
restless at her repeated failure, she rose from her 
desk and crossed the room to the cabinet in the 
corner. In one of the drawers was a packet of let¬ 
ters from her mother. They were exquisite in 
phrasing and in sentiment. She wondered if she 
might not borrow from them something of their 
grace. 

As she opened the drawer, her eyes fell on the lit- 
257 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


tie carved box. Mechanically she reached for it, and 
touched the spring. Then she stood staring down at 
her father’s ring! 

The words which she had once said to Diana 
echoed insistently in her ears: “ People who can love 
many times, who can go from one person to another, 
aren’t worth thinking about.” 

Why—she was like her father! He had loved 
once, and then he had loved again—and he had 
broken her mother’s heart! 

Shuddering, she flung the ring from her, and it 
rolled under the cabinet. She knelt to grope for it, 
and, having found it, she shut the box. But, like 
Pandora, she had let out a whole army of evil 
fancies, and they continued to oppress her. 

When she went back to her desk she could not write, 
and at last she put away her papers and, wrapping 
herself in her long white coat, climbed to the cupola. 

She had slept there many times with her mother. 
With only the stars above them, and on each side a 
view of the wide stretches of the sea, they had talked 
together, and Bettina had learned the beauty of the 
older woman’s nature ; having suffered much, she 
had forgiven everything. 

u Your father,” she would say, “ was like a child, 
258 


HER FATHERS RING 


seeking- the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. 
He was always looking for romance, forgetting that 
the most wonderful romance is that of the hearth¬ 
stone and of the quiet heart If he had ever really 
loved he would have known the joy of self-sacrifice, 
of self-effacement—but he did not love-” 

“ Love is self-sacrifice.” Such had been the 
verdict of the woman who had given all, and who 
had received nothing. It was a hard philosophy, 
acquired after years of dreariness, and the child had 
listened and absorbed and believed. She had heard 
nothing of love’s fulfilment, of the raptures of mutual 
tenderness. Hence she had been content with An. 
thony’s somewhat somber wooing, until that mo¬ 
ment when she had drifted with Justin through in¬ 
finite space, and had learned the things which 
might be. 

The thought of herself as mistress of Anthony’s 
big house by the sea weighed heavily upon her. 
In those great rooms she would move softly for the 
rest of her days. Anthony would work and read 
and ponder, and when he was at Harbor Light she 
would sit lonely through the gray winter evenings, 
and the sad summer twilights. But with Justin—oh, 

the limitless possibilities ! 

259 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


With him each day would bring its wealth of vivid 
experience—there would be always the glory of his 
strength, the uplift of his radiant youth ! 

She put the vision from her. So had her lather 
striven for joy, and he had missed all the great mean* 
mgs of life—and she would not be like her father. 

The wind was rising, and wailed fretfully above 
the waters. The stars were blotted out. 

Bettina shivered. What a dark world it was ! 

She rose and went down-stairs. Again she sat 
down to her desk. But this time she wrote rapidly, 
and the letter that she wrote was not to Anthony! 

When she had sealed and stamped it, she crept 
down the shadowy stairway, thence to the narrow 
street. 

The mail box was at the corner, and she sped 
toward it; as she came back on flying feet, a whisper 
reached her from the darkness of the garden—-a 
whisper which made her heart stand still. 

" Betty-” 

“Justin -” 

He emerged from the shadows. “ I didn’t dare to 
hope I should see you. I ran away from the yacht 
club dance—and I’m due back there now. But I 
wanted you. I think I must have wished so hard 
260 




HER FATHER'S RING 


that I wished you here. I wouldn’t ring for fear 1 
should wake poor Miss Matthews.” 

His eager whisper met no like response. “ You 
shouldn’t have come,” she said, dully. 

He bent down to look at her. Under the light 
from the street lamp he could see the disorder of her 
fair hair, the frightened look in her eyes. 

“ Dear one—what is it ? ” 

“ You mustn’t call me that. Did you get my 
letter?” 

“ Yes. That’s why I came—I knew that by this 
time you would have written to Anthony—that you 
were—free —” 

“ But I haven’t written to Anthony.” 

“ You haven’t ? Wasn’t that the letter you just 
mailed ? ” 

“ No—I was mailing a letter to you ——” 

A sudden fear clutched him. “ What did you 
have to say to me?’* 

“That—oh, Justin, I can’t give Anthony up-” 

ct Why not ? ” 

“ Oh —— We can’t talk here. Come up-stairs 
quietly—we mustn’t disturb Letty.” 

She glided ahead of him, and when he came into 
the shadowy room she was standing by the cabinet. 

261 




GLORT OF YOUTH 


“I’ve something to show you,” she said, and 
opened the carved box and held it out to him. 

“ It’s my father’s ring,” she said ; “ he broke my 
mother’s heart—and I won’t break Anthony’s.” 

Then, in halting sentences, she told him how that 
day she had come upon the ring. She told him her 
mother’s history. And he listened, and insisted at 
last, tenderly, that she had made mountains out of 
mole-hills. But he found her obstinate. 

“ I must not break my promise,” she insisted. 
“ Happiness could never come to us.” 

And, white and wistful in the face of his flaming 
arguments, she held to her determination until he 
left her. 

He had turned away wrathfully, and had reached 
the top of the winding stairway, when he heard her 
sobbing. 

He came back swiftly, and gathered her in his 
arms. 

“ You’re mine,” he said, holding her close. “ You 
know that, Betty.” 

She drew back from him. “ Please,” she begged, 
and so he let her go, and made his way blindly out 
of the room. 

Miss Matthews sleeping feverishly, became aware 
262 


HER FATHERS RING 


above the sighing of the wind of an intermittent 
sound of woe. 

She sat up and listened, put one foot out of bed, 
then the other, and throwing on her old gray wrap¬ 
per, wavered toward the threshold of the door 
between the two rooms. 

By the flickering light of the candle which burned 
on Bettina’s desk she could see the little shaking- 
white figure on the floor. 

“ Betty child,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “ dear 
child—what’s the matter ? ” 

“ Oh,” Bettina sat up and pushed her hair back 
from her tear-wet face, “ oh, I’ve waked you up. I 
think I just forgot that there was any one in the 
whole wide world except myself-” 

The expression on her tragic face told keen Miss 
Matthews that there was some deep trouble which 
needed help. 

‘ You come right into my room,” she said. “I 
don’t dare stay up another minute. But I couldn’t 
sleep if I tried, with a storm coming, and you can 
tell me all about it-” 

But when she was settled luxuriously once more 
among her pillows, and with Betty curled up at the 
foot of the bed, an awkward silence fell between them, 
263 



GLORT OF TOUTH 


At last Betty said, “Justin Ford was here. He's 
in love with me—Letty—but I sent him away-" 

“ Why did you send him away ? " 

“ Because—because I'm not going to marry him, 
Letty-" 

“ Why not-" 

“ There’s some one else. Some one who gave 
me these—Letty-" 

She lifted her left hand with its burden of spark¬ 
ling jewels. 

“ Who on earth ? " Miss Matthews demanded. 

“ Anthony." 

“ Anthony Blake ? " 

“ Yes.'' 

Miss Matthews dropped back limply. 

“ You’ll have to tell me from the beginning," she 
said, faintly. “ I can’t quite grasp it-” 

And Bettina told—of her loneliness, of Anthony's 
wonderful offer, and of her glad acceptance of it. 

“ Well, your mother would have been delighted," 
Miss Matthews said; “ but somehow it doesn’t seem 
right." 

“ Why not -- p " 

“ Oh, I’d fixed it up that you were going tf 
marry Justin Ford. Captain Stubbs and I watched 
264 


HER FATHERS RING 


you that day we went fishing, and if ever two young 
things seemed to be in love—well-” 

44 I—we are in love, Letty.” 

41 Then why in the world are you going to marry 
Anthony Blake ? ” 

“ Because I’ve promised—and I can’t be like my— 
father. And I can’t hurt Anthony—not when he has 
been so good to me.” 

She was sobbing again, and into the eyes of the 
little woman who had never had a daughter came a 
look of motherly solicitude. 

44 Dear child,” she said, 44 if you are just going to 
marry Anthony Blake because you are grateful, 
don’t you do it. No man wants a woman who feels 
that way—and you wouldn’t make him happy ” 

44 But—I’ve sent Justin away—and he’s angry 
with me. That is why I was crying when you 
found me-” 

She was on her knees now beside the bed, and 
the old maid’s arms were about her. 

44 There—there, dearie, you’ve thought too much 
about it, and you’ve come to believe that it’s the 
things you like to do which are wrong. And it’s 
really the other way.” 

Miss Matthews was thinking rapidly. There was 

265 



GLORT OF TOUTH 


some mystery. Anthony Blake was in love with 
Diana Gregory. He had always been in love with 
her. No one need try to tell her that he was not, 
for she knew. Then why was he engaged to Betty, 
and why had Diana gone away ? 

She had a sudden inspiration. 

“ Listen, Betty, there’s just one person who can 
straighten things out, and that person is Diana 
Gregory. Men aren’t any good at a time like this. 
They think with their heads, but women think with 
their hearts, and that’s the kind of thinking that you 
need most now-” 

“ But, Letty-” 

Miss Matthews waved her away. “ You go and 
write to Diana and mail it to-night, and then come 
back and keep me company. I’m afraid of the 
storm.” 

It was at that very moment that Anthony was also 
writing to Diana. When he had left Bettina he had 
gone straight to Harbor Light and into a little inner 
office where he was guarded from all intruders by 
the assistant who sat in the anteroom. Not even a 
telephone could sound its insistent note in this place 
where the doctor gained, in a reclining chair, his 
few brief moments of rest, or where he worked out 
266 


HER FATHERS RING 


the intricacies of perplexing problems. Now and then 
he saw a patient there, but rarely. Usually he shut 
his door against all distracting influences, and gave 
his attention to the things which concerned himself 
alone. 

What Sophie had told him about Diana had sent 
his thoughts flying to the wonder-woman up there 
in the woods. Even when he had talked to Bettina 
he had felt the consciousness of his thought of her. 

Out of a full heart he wrote, holding back nothing, 
and when he had sealed and stamped his bulky mis¬ 
sive, he, like Bettina, went forth to mail it. 

As he passed through the garden,a sudden gust 
of wind scattered a shower of rose petals in his path. 
That there were storms in the distance was evidenced 
by the low rumble of thunder and the vivid flashes 
of light. 

It was on nights like this that his patients grew 
restless—poor abnormal things they were, afraid of 
life, afraid of death, seeing in wind and rain and in 
the battle of the elements the terrors of the super¬ 
natural. 

But the night fitted in with Anthony’s mood. He 
still wore his white linen office coat. His hat was 
off, and his gray hair was blown back from his fore 
267 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

head. The salt air exhilarated him. He felt a sud¬ 
den lightness of heart. He wanted to shout like a 
boy. He had been grave for so long—but now his 
message had gone forth to Diana—to-morrow she 
would read it, and in two short days the answer 
would come. 

He made his way to the beach; the vivid flashes 
showed the heaving blackness of the waters—the 
waves came in with a sullen roar. 

He thought of the night when he had stood there 
with Diana, and when the moon had made a silver 
track. To-night there was no light—except Minot’s 
—like a star. “ I-love-you,” it said to the lonely man 
who stood there in the darkness. 

From somewhere in the garden a voice called 
him, then a nurse came runningo 

“I saw you go out,” she panted ; “ perhaps you’d 
better come, doctor—they are getting all worked up 
about the storm.” 

Thus was his life made up of duty. There was 
never an uninterrupted moment. His strength was 
always being drawn upon to uphold the weakness of 
others. To-night his whole nature craved the tumult 
of the wild night. Yet he must calm himself to meet 
the needs of those who leaned upon him. 

268 


HER FATHER'S RING 


As he turned to follow the nurse, a big car whirled 
through the gate, and there sounded the trilling 
laughter of girls, the deeper jovial bass of young 
men. 

Beneath the brilliantly-lighted entrance of Harbor 
Light the car stopped, and as Anthony came up, 
Sara and Doris descended with much shaking out of 
filmy dancing frocks. 

Sophie, with seeming unconsciousness of the 
havoc which the rain had wrought on her lovely 
black gown, made a smiling explanation to An¬ 
thony. 

“ Justin and Bobbie tried to get the top up—but 
something caught and I thought we should all be 
drenched. And then your Harbor Light shone out 
to welcome us-” 

Anthony was glad that they had come. He craved 
the lightness and brightness. He seemed suddenly 
to be one of them again—not a sad and somber being 
set apart. He had a sense of relief in Bettina’s ab¬ 
sence. It was as if her youth and beauty showed 
the contrast of his age. 

He took them up to his sitting-room, then excused 
himself to make his rounds. “I’m going to have 
something sent up 2or you to eat—-I know what slim 
26*, 



GLORT OF TOUTH 


fare they give at the club on the nights of the dances 
I’ll be with you soon.” 

While they waited for him Sara played; Bobbie 
and Doris danced—and Justin talked with Sophie. 

He looked worn and white, and a line cut deeply 
into his forehead. 

“ I owe you an apology,” he said, “ for yesterday. 
But I couldn’t help it. Bettina was so little and 
lovely—you know I wouldn’t harm a hair of her 
head—” 

Something in his voice made Sophie lay her hand 
on his. “ My dear boy, my dear boy-” 

“ I’m awfully hard hit,” he said, “ but she—she’s 
turned me down. I fancy it was our last flight to¬ 
gether. Do you remember Browning’s ‘ Last 
Ride’ — 

“ * And heaven just prove that I and she, 

Ride, ride—together—forever ride-* ? 

“Well, my heaven will be a place where she and 
I shall drift through infinite space—together-” 

He stood up. Sara was coming toward them—a 
brilliant little figure in a flame-colored gown. 

“ I’m not going to bore you with my worries,” 
Justin said, quickly—“ but—L—I wish you’d be aw¬ 
fully good—to Bettina.” 


270 




HER FATHERS RING 


Sophie carried away with her that night the vision 
of his tragic young face, and before she went to bed 
she wrote to Diana, and her letter ended thus: 

“ Oh, dearest girl, oh, dearest girl, what have we 
done, what have we done — 1 ” 


CHAPTER XX 

THE “GRAY GULL M 


T HE morning after the storm Justin went forth, 
moodily, for his morning flight. 

He found opposition, however, to his ascension. 
“ Wait until the afternoon,” was the advice given 
him ; “ there’s a nasty wind.” 

He would not listen, but he delayed his departure, 
preferring to start alone, and eventually the other 
aviators drifted off, and he made the “ Gray Gull ” 
ready. 

Going down to the pier for a last peep at the 
weather, he was hailed by Captain Stubbs. 

“ I am going to take Anthony Blake out for a day’s 
fishin’,” the little man said, as his motor boat 
chugged comfortably within easy talking distance. 
“ He telephoned last night that he wanted a day 
away from his work, and I said that the fish would 
be running after the rain. I’m always mighty glad 
to have him go with me. He’s a born fisherman. 
272 


THE “GRAY GULL ” 


His great-grandfather and mine fished together on 
the banks, and our grandfathers were part owners in 
the same schooner. But Anthony’s father went to 
the city and studied medicine, and his son followed 
in his footsteps, so that’s the way the Blake boys got 
switched off from fishin’ as a business. But it’s in 
their blood.” 

“ Look here,” Justin interrupted, “ I want to ask 
you a question, captain, and it’s about Anthony. 
Did you ever think he was in love with Diana 
Gregory ? ” 

“ Well,” the captain meditated, “I ain’t ever thought 
much about it. But Miss Matthews sees a lot, and 
she told me once that Anthony Blake wouldn’t ever 
look at any other woman but Diana, and that Diana 
was just keeping him on the string.” 

“ I can’t exactly fancy Diana as that sort of 
woman.” 

44 Well, it ain’t anything against a woman that she 
don’t know her own mind,” was the captain’s phil¬ 
osophical reflection. 44 Most men don’t know their 
own mind when it comes to marryin’. Only the dif¬ 
ference is this: a man loses his head and asks a girl, 
and then he wonders if she’s going to make him 
happy. And a woman hesitates about sayin’ * Yes/ 
273 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


but when she once decides, she sticks to a man 
through thick and thin.” 

In spite of his gloom Justin smiled. “ Where did 
you learn it all, captain ? You are as wise as if you 
had been married to a half dozen wives.” 

“ There’s a sayin’,” the captain explained, “ that 
a sailor has a wife in every port. That ain’t true. 
Sailors as a rule are constant men. But they see a 
lot of wimmen creatures, and they learn that there 
ain’t much difference, when it comes to lovin’, be¬ 
tween a Spanish lady who flirts with her eyes, and a 
Boston lady who flirts with her brain. They’re all 
after the same thing, and that’s a home, with a big 
H, and it’s a credit to them that they are—otherwise 
we men wouldn’t ever know when to settle down.” 

“Yet it’s because^of a woman that some of us never 
settle down.” Justin’s young eyes were looking out 
stormily upon the gray world. “ It’s because of 
some woman that we wander and are never satisfied.” 

The little captain gave him a keen glance. “ Well, 
you won’t ever have to worry,” he said ; “ all you’ve 
got to do is to keep at it till you find the right 
woman. That’s what that Betty child said to me the 
other day. ‘ Captain, if a man wants a woman, he’s 
got to keep after her until she says ‘ Yes.’ ” 

274 


THE “GRAY GULL" 


" Did Betty Dolce say that ? ” 

" Yes—she’s a smart little thing." 

But Justin’s thoughts were not of her "smartness " 
but of her pathetic loveliness. All night her sobs 
had echoed in his heart When he had driven his 
gay party home after their stop at Anthony’s, he had 
ridden for miles alone in the storm. He had wel¬ 
comed the beat of the rain in his face. He had 
yearned for some adventure which would shut out 
that vision of the shadowy room. 

But no adventure had been forthcoming, and so 
he had sought his uneasy couch, and had tried to 
sleep, and had risen at the first crow of cocks. 

He brought his mind back with difficulty to the 
captain. " I’m going up this morning, captain. I’ll 
wigwag to you and Anthony if you’re outside." 

" Don't you go," the little captain advised ear¬ 
nestly; "this isn’t any morning to fly. There’s all 
sorts of storms about, and you can’t tell what minute 
you’ll get into one." 

"Didn’t you like to sail your ship m a storm— 
didn’t you like the excitement of it— le battle with 
the wind and waves ? " 

" That’s different. I knew my ship was seaworthy. 
I knew what I had to face in an ordinary storm. But 
275 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


you take one of those Chinese typhoons, or a hurri 
cane that blew up from the Gulf, and I didn’t enjoy 
it. Not a bit. I’d go miles to get out of one, and 1 
learned this, after I had looked death in the face a 
hundred times, that foolhardiness doesn’t pay. You 
go slow, and wait for a quiet day.” 

Justin laughed recklessly. “ I’ll take my chances.” 

“ Well, there’s no fool like a young fool.” The 
little captain started his motor with a jerk, and its 
comfortable chugging was at once changed to an 
angry snort 

Justin did not at once go back to the sheds. He 
climbed a path which led to the adjoining hotel, and 
made his way to the writing rooms. 

The people who lounged on the porches looked at 
him curiously as he passed. Those who had been 
there longest whispered to the newcomers the magic 
of his name. More than one girl remarked the 
beauty of the somber young countenance, and the 
strength of the straight young figure. 

In the writing room of the big hotel Justin wrote 
to Diana. It was his last hope. He wrote hur¬ 
riedly, using the elaborately monogrammed house 
paper, and his script was interspersed with dashes, 
with now and then a boyish blot 
376 


THE “GRAY GULL” 

When he had finished he went to the desk of the 
girl in the corridor who sold post-cards and maga¬ 
zines, and bought a stamp. 

Anthony was delayed, somewhat, in starting out 
with Captain Stubbs by the news that Miss Matthews 
was worse. 

He found her with a high fever, and he also found 
Bettina in a state of agitated apology. 

“ I’m afraid I talked to her too late. But we—we 
were afraid of the storm." 

“ She’ll be all right in a few hours, but you’ve got 
to get some rest. I’ll send a nurse.’’ 

“No—Sophie said she would come—early this 
afternoon—and then I can sleep—and I’ve had little 
naps on the couch-” 

As he turned to go he stopped and said, with 
some hesitation : “You didn’t write the letter to the 
Big Bear, Betty." 

She blushed. “ I’m not going to write it." 

“Why not?" 

“ Because—I’ve changed my mind about it—I’ve 
really nothing to tell you—and every woman has a 
right to change her mind." 

She tried to say it saucily, but was not successful, 
and he, vaguely relieved, responded, “I’m glad— 
277 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


that you are not troubled, 1 ” kissed her lightly on hei 
forehead, and went away. And she looked after 
him and sighed, and wondered if all the years 
which stretched before them would be as dreary as 
this. 

The arrival of the little captain broke in upon her 
thoughts. “ You give her these,” he said. “ I can’t 
stay a minute. I’m going out with Anthony for a 
day’s fishinV’ 

He rushed away, leaving Bettina with her arms 
full of pink roses. 

She took them in to Miss Matthews. “ Letty,” 
she said, “the captain brought them. Isn’t he 
romantic ? He is making pink your color. I think 
it’s dear of him.” 

Miss Matthews blushed. “I’d surely never have 
picked out Captain Stubbs for the romantic kind, 
but you never can tell.” 

“ No, you never can tell,” Betty agreed, and stood 
looking idly out of the window. 

All at once she gave startled attention. 

“ Letty,” she said, “Justin is flying.” 

Miss Matthews, half asleep, murmured, “ Well, 
I’m glad you’re not with him,” and Bettina, recalled 
to her obligations to the invalid, answered with as* 
278 


THE “ GRAT GULL ” 


sained carelessness, “So am I,” and measured out 
Miss Matthews' medicine, and talked no more. 

But her heart was beating madly as she fol¬ 
lowed his flight. He was up there—alone. Up 
there in that wonderful world! Was he thinking 
of her? Was he hearing, again, those celestial 
harmonies ? 

To-day there was no sunshine—but as he circled 
against the background of moving clouds her 
thoughts went to that wild hawk in “the wind 
swept sky.” 

She knew nothing of the danger. She did not 
know that, as yet, his machine was not perfected to 
a point where it could brave with immunity such 
weather as was threatened by the brooding sky. 
She only saw his flight—and her hurt heart craved 
the place which had been hers for a few brief mo¬ 
ments of rapture. 

When at last he was out of sight, she went about 
her little duties, but came back again and again to 
the window, watching for the time when he should 
reappear. 

Anthony and the captain, half-way across the 
harbor, said things about Justin's recklessness, and 
spoke of the danger 

279 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“Some day he’ll get hurt,” was the captain’s con* 
elusion, “ and then he won’t ever fly again.” 

“ Yes.” Anthony’s eyes were following the “ Gray 
Gull,” which was now beyond the harbor and head^ 
ing for the open sea ; growing smaller and smaller, 
it was at last a mere speck on the horizon. 

Then the captain and Anthony, having reached a 
place offshore which promised a good catch, put 
out their lines and entered at once upon that ecstatic 
state of watchfulness which is the heritage of the true 
fisherman. 

The relief which Anthony felt from the cares 
which had oppressed him was magical. He was 
sailor enough to love the swell of the waves and the 
rippling music of the water as it slipped under the 
anchored boat; he was fisherman enough to be 
thrilled by the chances of capture ; he was artist 
enough to gloat over the beauty of the dull morning 
—the white gulls circling overhead, the black rocks 
sticking their spines above the gray sea, a phantom 
four-masted ship sailing straight toward them out of 
the mists. 

And he was man enough to think of the woman he 
loved, and to forget the pensive appealing child in 
the shadowy room. He had a vision of Diana up 
280 


THE “GRAY GULL” 


there in the forest—strong of spirit, wresting from life, 
even in her exile, the things which were worth while. 

As they ate their lunch the little captain confided to 
Anthony the hope of his heart. “ I’m going to ask 
Letty Matthews to marry me—I want to get her 
away from that school-” 

“ Good. I’ll dance at your wedding.” 

“ When am I to dance at yours ? ” the captain de¬ 
manded, bluntly. “ I should think it was about time 
that you were putting your furniture in that big 
house for Diana Gregory.” 

** Some of the furniture is in." Anthony slurred 
over the greater question by tactfully emphasizing 
the lesser. “ I had my mother’s piano sent over 
yesterday, and some of the things for the living-room 
and library. We haven’t a place for them at Harbor 
Light—and then there’s the china. I wish I could 
match up some of those pieces of White Canton, 
captain. I wonder if we could make an exchange. 
I’ve a lot of Crown Medallion which would fill out 
your set-” 

Having thus started the little captain on his chief 
hobby, Anthony breathed a sigh of relief, and went 
on with his fishing. 

The subject of the china sufficed to fill the cap- 
281 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


tain’s mind until the fish stopped biting, and they 
decided to go in. 

It was just as they began their trip toward the 
harbor that Justin came back. 

The wind was blowing now straight from the south, 
and the “ Gray Gull ” was making slow headway 
against it. 

“ Why don’t he come down to the water ? It’s 
safer,” said the little captain, anxiously. “ There’s 
every sign of a squall ——” 

But Justin kept on; between him and the harbor 
was the Neck, with its jagged shore line of rocks. 
He was evidently planning to cross the strip of land 
obliquely, as, in rounding the point to come up the 
harbor, he must get the full force of the wind — 

As he sailed over them they caught the strong beat 
of his motor. It seemed, too, that he waved his 
hand ; then he left them behind, keeping close to 
shore and above that jagged line of rocks. 

“Oh, the fool,” the captain murmured. “Why 
don’t he get away from the land ? ” 

The wind came with a mighty sweep; the air-ship 
gave a backward tilt, fluttered for a moment like a 
bird in a storm—then shot down with sickening 
swiftness ! 


282 



THE “ GRAY GULL ” 


“His motor has stopped,” the captain shouted, 

4 and he’s lost control! If he strikes the rocks he’s 
done for! ” 

Down—down 1 They had one glimpse of Justin 
struggling to free himself; they saw him jump clear, 
and the big machine crashed on the beach. 

It was the little captain who forced his boat to 
record speed, but it was Anthony who went over the 
side and through the breakers to where Justin lay 
prostrate, half in and half out of the water. 

Wet and dripping the doctor bent over the boy, 
put his hand to his heart and felt it beating faintly, 
then looked at the broken body and said, unsteadily : 

“ There’s only a slim chance of saving him. We 
must get him to Harbor Light.” 

The accident had been seen from the harbor, and 
as the captain’s boat shot around the Point with its 
precious burden, it met other boats coming out to 
meet it, and orders were shouted back and forth, so 
that when the rescuers reached the pier, there was a* 
car ready for that which had gone out full of life and 
strength and which had come back beaten and 
bruised. 

The girls on the porch of the big hotel cried in 
each other’s arms, hysterically, as the car passed, 
3*3 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


and talked of the way the young aviator had looked 
in the morning. 

But far up in a tall old house, crowned by a cupola, 
was a girl who did not cry. She had seen the “Gray 
Gull ” come down and had guessed at the catas¬ 
trophe. She had fainted away quietly, and lay now 
on the floor by the window with all of her fair hair 
shaken over her still white face. 


CHAPTER XXI 


BROKEN WINGS 

I T was Sophie who found Bettina. She came in 
quietly, wondering at the silence, then growing 
suddenly afraid she passed swiftly to the inner room 
to discover Miss Matthews still asleep and Bettina 
in a huddled heap on the floor. 

She picked the girl up in her strong arms, and 
carried her back to the big room and brought water 
and bathed her face, murmuring anxiously, “My 
dear, what is it ? What has happened ? ” 

And, after a little while, Bettina whispered, “ Jus¬ 
tin,” and then, a little louder, “Justin,” and coming 
to the surface through the darkness for a third time, 
she clutched Sophie’s arm, and cried, “ Oh, is he 
killed ? Is Justin killed ? ” 

Holding the shuddering little creature close, Sophie 
protested : “My dear, what is it? What have you 
dreamed ? ” 

“ I didn’t dream. Oh, Sophie, I didn’t dream. 1 

saw him up in the air, and I saw him—fall-” 

285 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


So it had come. So it came to all men who flew. 
Every bit of blood was drained from Sophie’s face. 
But, fighting for composure, she held out such hope 
as she could. “ My dear, are you sure ? How did 
you know ? ” 

“ I was standing by the window when he—came 
down-” 

“ But there may have been some one to help him 
—and he was over the water—and he can— 
swim ” 

Footsteps were ascending the stairs lightly but 
hurriedly. The two women turned their white faces 
to the door. Captain Stubbs stood on the threshold. 

“ He’s hurt,” he said. “ Justin’s hurt. He’s at 
Harbor Light—and he’s asked for Betty—and An¬ 
thony says that she must come.” 

In a big room that overlooked the sea lay the 
bird man with broken wings. After that first mur¬ 
mured plea for “ Betty ” he had showed no sign of 
returning consciousness. 

On the floor above him they were getting ready 
for the operation. Nurses and doctors, in ghostly 
white, had set themselves to various preparatory 
tasks. And presently everything was in readiness 
for the great Dr. Anthony 
286 


BROKEN WINGS 

He was delayed by a white-faced slip of a thing, 
whom he led at once into his private office, leaving 
Captain Stubbs outside as a proud and patient sen¬ 
tinel. 

When he had closed the door, Anthony took the 
little cold hands in his. “ He is going to get well, 
Betty, if my skill can make him. I’ve got to operate 
at once—and there’s a big chance—the other 

way-” He hesitated, then said, gently, “You 

love him, child? ” 

“Yes^—oh, yes.” 

“ And he loves you—how blind I’ve been ! How 
much trouble might have been saved if I had 
known.” 

There was no bitterness in his voice, only a great 
regret. 

“ And now,” he went on, “ I’m going to save him 
for you, if I can. And I’ve sent a nurse to take care 
of Letty Matthews so that you can have Sophie with 
you.” 

He had thought of everything. It came to Bet- 
tina then what he meant to the world—this great 
Dr. Anthony—she had hated his mission of heal¬ 
ing—and the skill which might now mean to her 
a lifetime of happiness instead of unutterable woe. 

287 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


She tried, faltering, to tell him something of what 
she was feeling. 

“ Hush, dear child. You could not know. And 
now you must be very brave, and pray your little 
white prayers for Justin, and, please God, we shall 
bring him through.” 

Then he had gone away and Sophie had come, 
and the dreadful time of waiting had begun. 

Sophie, who had walked in the Valley of the 
Shadow with her own beloved, knew the right things 
to say to the child who clung to her. 

“ Dearest, think of all you will mean to him when 
he gets well. Why, there's never an opportunity for 
a woman like that of having the man she loves de¬ 
pendent upon her—you can do all of the lovely little 
things for him.” 

“ But if he should not—get well ? ” 

“ You are not to think of that.” 

“ I must think of it.” 

“ Hush, dear, don't. You can’t help him or your¬ 
self by crying—I know how you feel—but think of 
this. If you should lose him, you will still have 
known love at its best. And you will never be 
content with a lesser thing. Oh, Betty, child, it is 
the shallow people who ask, ‘ Is it better to have 
288 


BROKEN WINGS 


loved and lost than never to have loved ? 9 How can 
there be any doubt ? The woman who has not 
loved is only a half creature.” 

“I know. Oh, Sophie, it seems such an awful 
thing to say, but if this hadn’t happened I should 
never have been sure that for me there could never 
be any one else but Justin.” 

Tactfully, the older woman led her on to talk of her 
doubts and fears, and of her terror lest she might deal 
with love lightly, as her father had done. And then 
Sophie spoke reverently of her own perfect marriage. 

“ It was during his illness,” she said, “ that I 
learned to know my husband. I think I had always 
been a bit selfish. He had seemed so strong that I 
had heaped my burdens upon him. He wanted me 
to be happy, so he withheld all cares frcm me. But 
the time came when he knew it was not right to 
withhold such cares. He knew that I was to face 
separation and loneliness, and so he helped me to 
get ready. Oh, Betty, dear, I can’t tell you how 
wonderful he was. He knew that death must come 
to him, and yet he never whimpered. He was a 
brave soldier going down to battle, and not once did 
he flinch. But gradually he came to lean on me; 
once he cried in my arms—not from fear, but because 
289 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


he must leave me. These things are not easy to 
speak of—but where at first I had merely loved, I 
came to worship. I saw how he had shielded me, 
and when he left me I had the precious memory not 
only of his care for me—but of my care for him— 
and his appreciation of it.” 

There was a silence in which not only the “ white 
prayers ” of Bettina ascended, but the fervent ones 
of the woman who had suffered and lost. 

Then came a nurse with the message, “ Dr. Blake 
wishes me to say that all conditions are favorable,” 
and they permitted themselves to hope. 

Other people were coming now to Harbor Light— 
great men from the yachts, people from the big 
hotels, fellow-aviators of Justin’s—the townsfolk and 
sailors—children who had worshiped the flying 
man of the smiling countenance. 

But no one was shown into the inner office except 
Bobbie and Doris and Sara. 

It was in that first moment of her meeting with 
Bettina that Sara blotted out the last vestige of 
smallness and of jealousy. 

She went straight up to the girl whom Justin 
loved, and put her arms about her. “ Oh, you poor 
dear thing,” and they wept together. 

290 


BROKEN WINGS 

Then Bettina asked, “ How did you know ? ” 

“ Everybody knows,” Sara said, hysterically, 
44 Did you think you could hide it ? ” 

Doris was weeping, too, in Bobbie’s arms, and 
Bobbie’s white, set face showed what he was feeling 
for his friend. “ Oh, what made him go out on such 

a day—of all the crazy things-” 

'■‘I told him not to,” said Captain Stubbs, who 
had kept hitherto in the background, “ but there’s no 
fool like a young fool, and I said it at the time. But 
it was God’s own providence that we were there 
when he fell. And if any one can fix him up it’s 
Anthony,” 

Bettina heard, and thought of her former fear of 
this place, which seemed now a sacred house of 
healing. Was she the same girl who had railed so 
bitterly against Anthony’s profession ? She felt that 
she wanted to tell him how great he was. Why, he 
was a wonderful man—and he was going to save 
Justin as he had saved others. Daily he fought 
battles with death and conquered. He must con¬ 
quer now 1 

Up-stairs in the operating room was being played 
a game of skill which had for its pawns human life 
and human reason. 


2QI 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


The worst trouble lay in the wounds about the 
head, But there were other dreadful complications, 
and many times in the hours that followed it seemed 
that the game was lost. 

All through the tiresome ordeal not once did a 
muscle of the great surgeon quiver. Not once did 
he show dismay at that which was most baffling; 
not once did he show weakness at that which was 
most pitiful. 

But when at last his great task was ended, his 
face was worn and gray. 

Yet as he went to change his clothes, through the 
fabric of his weariness and of his anxiety ran a 
thread of joy in the thought that the barriers were 
down between himself and Diana, and that he might 
love her now without reproach. 

When at last he descended to his little office, he 
spoke hopefully. “ His strength and youth are in 
his favor—and I’m going to pull him through.” 

Yet he knew in his heart that he was flinging a 
defiance at destiny. 

He arranged to keep Bettina at Harbor Light. 

“ Justin might ask for you again,” was his expla¬ 
nation. 

So Bobbie and Doris and Sara and Sophie went 
292 


BROKEN WINGS 


away together, and when there was no one else to 
hear, Anthony said to Bettina, gently, “ My dear, why 
didn’t you tell me ? ” 

Curled up in a big leather chair, she spoke of her fear 
of hurting him, of being inconstant—like her father. 

She seemed such a child in her blue serge suit with 
its red silk tie, and with the shady hat which had 
been pinned on hastily when the summons came. 
But the things she was saying were womanly things, 
and for the first time since he had known her Anthony 
perceived the possibilities of which Diana had been 
so sure—this little Betty child, transformed by love, 
would one day be an inspiration and a help to the 
man she would marry. 

“ If I have hurt you,” she said, as she finished, “ I 
—I can only ask you to forgive me. If this had not 
happened, I think I should have—kept my promise. 
But now you know—and you will not want me to 
keep it.” 

“No. I do not want you to keep it. Oh, what 
a tragedy we have made of it all. I might have 
made it so easy for you.” 

" You, Anthony?” 

“ Yes.” 

He sat silent for a moment, his fingers tapping the 
293 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


arm of his chair, those strong flexible fingers which 
an hour ago had done such magical feats of surgery. 
Bettina’s eyes were held by them. 

“ I hardly know how to begin ; it has to do with— 
Diana.” 

“ Diana?” 

“ I love her, dear-” 

“Diana?” Bettina spoke, breathlessly. “Oh, 
and does she love you—Anthony ? ” 

“ I have always loved her—but I thought I had 
lost her—then when she came back from Europe I 
found that she was still free—and that—she cared. 
But by that time I had engaged myself to a dear 
child who really didn’t love me at all.” 

“ But why didn’t you tell me, Anthony ? ” 

“ Because, my dear, I thought you might be made 
unhappy.” 

To others there might have seemed something 
humorous in the situation—in its almost farcical com¬ 
plications and misunderstandings. But these two 
saw none; the issues were too deep, too serious; 
death was too near in that upper room. 

“Was that why—she went away--?” Bettina 

whispered. 

“Yes.” 


294 


BROKEN WINGS 

“ Oh, write and tell her to come back." 

“ I have written. I wrote yesterday. I saw that 
you were not happy. I felt that I had no right to 
permit you to marry me when my heart was bound 
up in another woman—as it was bound up in her. 
I felt that in marriage there is something which goes 
beyond conventional honor. As a physician I have 
seen much of unhappiness—and I could not sanction 
in myself that which I would not have sanctioned in 
another. So I told Diana. I think instinct warned 
me there was some one else, after your flight with 
Justin.” 

“ And now—if he gets—well.” 

Anthony stood up. “ He shall get wdl,” he said, 
steadily. “ I scarcely dare think of the things which 
are coming to you and to me, dear child. But when 
I think of them my heart says, ‘ Thank God.* ” 

If she wept now in his arms, it was as a daughter 
might weep in the arms of a father—there was love 
between them at last, but it was the love of tried 
friendship, of passionate gratitude on her part, of 
protective affection on his. 

When he had quite soothed her, she drew off the 
sparkling rings. “ These must go back to you,” she 
said; “ some day you must give them to Diana.” 

295 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


He shook his head. “I shall give her pearls, 
She belongs to the sea, Bettina; she’s the wife for a 
man of sailor instincts like myself—we love the 
harbor, and the great lights that are high above it, 
and the little lights that are low—and so I shall give 
her pearls. 

“ But you must keep these,” he went on ; “ not to 
wear on your third finger—Justin, please God, shall 
some day look after that—but to wear on your right 
hand, as my gift to you—for luck and a long and 
happy life.” 

In the evening they rode over to see Miss Mat¬ 
thews, and found her sitting up. “ I feel better,” she 
said, “ and there’s something in the air. I want to 
know why I have a nurse, and why Bettina went 
away while I was asleep ? ” 

“And I want to know,” said Anthony, sternly. 
“ why you are out of bed ? ” 

“ Because I am better,” said Letty Matthews; 
“ there’s nothing in this world that can cure a per¬ 
son like curiosity—and I had to know what was 
going on.” 

So Anthony told her, and she wept to think of the 
fate of the bird man with the broken wings. 

But she was cheered by the coming of Captain 
296 


BROKEN WINGS 


Stubbs. He bore on a tray such a supply of delicious 
viands that Miss Matthews urged that Bettina and 
Anthony should stay and have supper. 

Bettina could not eat. 

“ Please, I’m not hungry,” she said, and went down 
the winding stairway, and when she came back her 
arms were full of roses. 

“ Will you let him have them in his room ? ” she 
asked Anthony. 

“ He shall see them first when he opens his eyes,” 
Anthony promised; “they shall carry all of your 
messages to him.” 

In the hushed room at Harbor Light there was 
darkness—and there was the fragrance of many 
flowers. 

Out of the darkness a faint voice wavered, 
“ Lilacs ? ” 

The nurse bent over the high hospital bed. 
'Roses—lovely ones.” 

A long silence. Then, “ Lovely ladies ? ” said the 
faint voice. 

He could see them with his eyes shut—a whole 
procession of pretty ladies, all floating in the dim¬ 
ness. Just their faces on a broad band of light, over 
w^ich the gray mists rolled now and then and 
297 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


blurred the outlines. Then the faces would again 
shine out, smiling—gay and sad, pensive and glad. 

“ Lovely ladies,” he said again. 

They followed him into his dreams, and kept him 
company until the pain began—that racking, wrench • 
ing pain ; then they flew from him and left him alone 
to suffer. 

After a long time, when the nurse had bared his 
shoulder and had pricked it with something th at felt 
like a pin, they came back—all those lovely faces ; 
only now they seemed to peep from behind clouds 
of smoke, heavier than the mists, and more tantaliz¬ 
ing in their concealments. 

So they came and went through the long night, 
leaving when the pain racked him, returning al¬ 
ways when the nurse did things to his shoulder with 
her little shining instrument 

They fled from him, too, when he opened his eyes 
and saw hazily that there was a light, and a great 
many flowers, and that Anthony was standing in a 
sort of bower of them. 

And Anthony was saying to some unseen person 
who stood at the head of the bed, Did he notice the 
flowers ? ” 

“ Yes.” 


BROKEN WINGS 


“ Good—you can take them out now—nurse.” 

He had tried to tell Anthony about the pretty 
ladies. But they had come back and were whirling 
about him on that band of light—and there was one 
with dark hair with a crescent moon above the part¬ 
ing—and there was one who came closer than the 
others, and who had hair that shone like gold, and a 
little white face. 

“ Betty-” 

The nurse did not catch the name—but Anthony’s 
quick ear was at once attentive. 

" She loves you, dear boy ; and Fm going to make 
you well, so you may marry her.” 


299 


CHAPTER XXII 

THE ENCHANTED FOREST 
AR up in the hills the Beautiful Lady went daily 



JL to the post-office for her mail. 

It was a long walk, and the path skirted the edge 
of the forest Leaving the path one entered upon a 
world of dim green light, a world of soft whispering 
sounds, a world of enchantment; and it was into this 
world that Diana’s feet strayed as she came and went. 
It was here she spent most of her mornings ; it was 
here she found the solitude she craved. 

The guests at the mountain house called the 
Beautiful Lady exclusive ; but it was an exclusiveness 
which matched her air of remoteness, and since such 
friendships as she encouraged were with those who 
were lonely and tired and sick, she made no enemies 
by her withdrawal from the conventional life of the 
place. 

The lazy folk on the porch who were content to 
wait for the mail bag which came at noon by carrier 
always watched with curiosity the departure and re- 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 

turn of the stately woman who was said to be wealthy 
and of great social eminence. She went alone and 
came back just in time for lunch, having loitered on 
the way to read her letters. 

The letters, however, were not always satisfying. 
They brought such meager news of that which lay so 
near her heart! Sophie kept persistently away from 
topics which might be disturbing; Bettina’s girlish 
epistles really told nothing—and Anthony wrote not 
at all. 

Yet such scraps as she could glean formed the 
excitement of Diana’s day, and always she had a 
vague and formless hope—a hope for which she 
reproached herself. Always she hoped for a letter 
from Anthony. 

She knew that he ought not to write. She knew 
that if he did write she would not answer—but the 
longing of her heart would hot be stilled. 

As far as possible she forced her mind to thoughts 
of the future, and it was thus she had evolved the 
plan which she had written to Sophie. It was the 
only way in which her life could be linked with 
Anthony’s; they would thus share in a work which 
might continue in interest to the end of their days. 

There were times, however, when all of her 

301 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


optimism, all of her philosophy failed, and when 
her whole nature cried out for reality—not for 
dreams. 

It was on one of these days of depression that she 
left behind her the hotel piazza with its chattering 
crowd, and drifted somewhat languidly across the 
lawn, past the tennis courts, and out into the moun¬ 
tain path. 

In her modish frock of gray linen, with a parasol 
of leaf green, she seemed to merge gradually into 
the grayness and greenness of the forest beyond. 
She might have been a dryad returning to her tree, 
or as an artist in the group on the porch remarked, 
“a nymph in a Corot setting.” 

How still it was in the forest! Even the birds 
seemed to respect the silences, and slipped from 
branch to branch like shadows. The squirrels, 
flattened heads downward against gray tree trunks, 
whisked up and out of sight as the intruder ad¬ 
vanced. A strayed butterfly went by in a wavering 
flight, seeking the sunshine and the flowers of the 
open fields. 

Diana loved the forest, but more than all she 
loved the sea. She missed the wild music of the 
waves and wind. The hills seemed to shut her in ; 

302 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 


she wanted the wide spaces, the limitless expanse 
of blue—she wanted the harbor with its many lights. 

Yet if Anthony married Betty it would be years 
before she would dare go back. His work was 
there, and he must stay ; she would be exiled from 
the place she loved. 

Her steps quickened as if she would fly from the 
thought. She passed again beyond the edge of the 
arching trees, and came upon a winding road. Its 
last curve brought her to a little settlement of which 
the store, which was also the post-office, was the 
most imposing building. 

The postmistress knew her and had the package 
ready. “ Lots of letters, two papers and a half 
dozen magazines,” she said, cheerily. " I don’t see 
how you find time to read so many.” 

“ I have nothing to do but read. I am not a 
lucky busy person like yourself.” Diana was smil¬ 
ing as she turned up the corners of each letter to 
glance at the one beneath. 

On top was Sophie’s daily budget, black-edged 
and bulky. Bettina’s showed a faddish slender 
monogram. Following was Justin’s—she knew that 
boyish scrawl; a business letter or two, a bill, an 
advertisement, and then—her heart leaped. On the 
303 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


iap of a great square envelope blazed the seal which 
Anthony had chosen for his house of healing—a 
lighthouse flashing its beacon over stormy waters* 

The little postmistress wondered at the radiance 
which illumined the face of the lovely lady. Diana, 
in saying a hurried farewell, sparkled like a girl. 

“ You’ve given me such wonderful letters this 
morning,” she said, breathlessly. “ I must run 
away and read them.” 

And she did run, literally, when she had passed 
beyond the limits of the village. Holding up her 
narrow skirt, her parasol under her arm, her pre¬ 
cious burden of mail hugged tightly, she left the path, 
and again entered upon the enchanted forest. 

She knew of a place where she would read 
Anthony’s letter, a warm little hollow, with a still 
silver pool beyond, a pool which, with its upstand¬ 
ing reeds and rushes, was merged at its farthest 
edge into a blurred purple background. 

Safe at last in her retreat she opened Anthony’s 
letter, forgetting the others in her eagerness, seeing 
only the firm, simple script which crowded a dozen 
pages. 

He began quietly, but evidently, as he wrote, 
Anthony had been swayed by emotions which had 
304 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 


mastered him, and he had written with fire and in¬ 
tensity, and, as she read, her heart responded tremu¬ 
lously : 

“ Dear Diana : 

“ Sophie has told me of your plan—your 
wonderful plan which has to do with my work and 
with me, and which shall link our futures in an 
interest which shall be above reproach. 

“ It was like you to think of it, and I shall not try 
to thank you. Indeed you will not want my thanks. 
You and I are beyond conventional concealments, 
and you know, as I know, that the thing which you 
are doing is for your own happiness as well as for 
mine, and I am glad that it is so, because your 
happiness is the thing which I most desire. 

“ I have not wanted to think of you up there in 
the hills. You belong to the sea, dear girl, and I 
know you are missing it, as we are missing you. I 
know, too, that, as you read this, you will say: ‘He 
is overstepping bounds. He must not write these 
things to me.’ But I am going to write them, Diana, 
for the time has come when we must face the big 
truths, and let the half-truths go. 

“ The big truth is this—that you and I love each 
other. The half-truth is—that Bettina loves me, and 
that I must not break her heart. 

“ I am troubled about Bettina. Certainly the child 
is not happy. All of her brightness has left her. 
She is pale and thin, and I am too wise a physician 
of bodies not to know something, too, of hearts. 
You may say that my attitude has affected her; that 
she had felt instinctively the difference in me. But 

305 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


it is not that. I am sure it is not that. When I 
asked her to-night if there was anything between us, 
she faltered that she had something to tell me that 
she would write. 

“ Perhaps I should wait until her letter comes, but 
I cannot wait. You are so vividly with me at this 
moment, Diana, that I can almost hear your voice 
calling above the noise of the wind and waves. I 
can see you as I like you best—all in white. I can 
feel your presence as I felt it that night in the empty 
house as you stood on the threshold of that moon¬ 
lighted room. 

“ Oh, dear girl, come back to me. I must have 
you in my life. Otherwise it will be a thwarted life— 
and a lonely one. For whether you marry me or 
not, I will not marry Betty. I do not love her, and 
she shall not spend her days as the unloved wife of 
one whose thoughts are all with a wonder-woman 
up in the hills. 

“ Can’t you see it as I do ? We must not so pro¬ 
fane marriage, Betty and I. There is no idea of 
honor so false as that which holds a man or a 
woman to a promise which has ceased to have 
a vital and a vivid meaning. 

“No man has a right to plan for a home unless 
Love is to be the corner-stone. These things are 
sacred, and not to be spoken of except to those who 
understand. But my love for you and your love 
for me would form a barrier against all the sweet 
and tender meanings for Betty of wifehood and 
motherhood. 

“That’s the plain truth of it. I’m a blunt man, 
and I've said it as it has come to me after days of 
pondering. 


306 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 

“1 am not saying these things that I may marry 
you. I am saying them because they are true. 
Surely we can find a way to make Bettina happy. 
Her youth and loveliness must always win love. 
The hearts of the boys at the club are all under her 
little feet, and Justin—oh, if I only dared hope that 
she could care for Justin- 

“ But marry her I will not, even if I go alone 
through life. 

“For me you are the One Woman, Diana. In 
these days of separation from you I have thought 
of many things, but of none more than this: that we 
men, having loved one woman, deceive ourselves, 
when we lose her, with the thought that^another like 
her may be found—but she is never found, and so 
we go through life half-men, unsatisfied, with hungry 
hearts. 

44 There’s a big storm coming. I wish you might 
go down to the beach and walk with me in the 
wind. How often we have walked together in beat¬ 
ing storms, Diana, and have gloried in them—so we 
would face the storms of life together; so I cannot 
face them with any other—or alone. 

44 Oh, girl, come back to me. I need you. I must 
have you. I will have you. You are mine. 

44 Anthony.” 

The letter dropped from her fingers. She hid her 
face in her hands. His call echoed thunderingly in 
her ears. But she must not listen ; she must not. 

She yielded for the moment, however, to the 
sweetness of his insistent demand. Curled up in 
307 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


the warm little hollow she dreamed of the things 
which might be—putting off, as long as possible, 
the moment of decision. 

The other letters lay unheeded at her feet. All 
friendship seemed futile at such a t me. What could 
Sophie, or Bettina or Justin say which could match 
those burning words of her lover ? 

The sun, rising higher, filtered through the 
branches and fell like golden rain upon the sur¬ 
face of the pool—the purple shadows gave way to 
emerald vistas; a trail of honey-bees traveled un¬ 
erringly toward a hidden honey store. It was high 
noon in the forest! 

Diana, waking to the fact that the hours had flown, 
gathered up her other letters, and opened the one 
on top of the pile. It was Justin’s. What could he 
have to say to her, this boy who lived his life so 
lightly ? 

But when she had read the scrawled words she 
sat staring at them, hardly believing the things 
which had been written. 

“ Dear Lady : 

“ Betty Dolce told me last night of her en¬ 
gagement to Anthony. But it was too late. You 
see it has come to this : that there isn't any one in 

308 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 

the world for me but Betty—she’s so little and young 
and sweet, and she has waked up the man in me, 
and that’s what no other girl has ever done. 

“ But she won’t break her promise, and last night 
I left her crying, and I can’t stand the thought of it. 
I just can’t stand it. When it was only I who suf¬ 
fered, I could get along, but now—why, it’s Betty’s 
happiness against all the rest. 

“ Am I doing a dishonorable thing, Diana, when I 
ask her to tell Anthony the truth ? 

“ You shall decide for us. I cannot think clearly. 
I love her too much. 

“Justin.” 


What had inspired Justin to write to her like that? 
Did Betty know ? Did Sophie ? She went to the 
reading of the other letters eagerly, and when at 
last they lay before her, and the whole pitiful little 
story was revealed, the tears were running down her 
cheeks. Oh, the unhappiness of the dear young 
hearts—and the happiness which was to come! 

Those who had assembled on the porch of the 
hotel in the before-luncheon hour were struck by 
something unusual in the bearing of the Beautiful 
Lady as she came toward them. All the listlessness 
of the morning had gone. Her head was up and she 
walked swiftly, lightly. 

“She makes me think of the ‘Winged Vic 
309 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


tory,’ ” was the comment of the observant artist 
“ She gives the same impression of triumphant 
motion.” 

At other times Diana had rather resented the in¬ 
spection of the people on the porch. But to-day all of 
the faces looked friendly—she felt that she would like 
to say to them all, “ I am going home to be happy.” 
But what she really did was to bow somewhat shyly, 
and to go on with flaming cheeks. 

The artist looked after her. “ I wonder if she 
knows that she belongs to the goddess type of the 
Golden Age,” he said, and sighed. 

It was just at dusk that Diana stepped once more 
within the borders of the enchanted forest, and sought 
the warm little hollow beside the pool. In her filmy 
gown of midnight blue she moved like a shadow 
among deeper shadows—her neck and shoulders 
gleaming white. 

About her were all the eerie noises of the dark* 
the little, little sounds of little, little things. 

“ Good-bye,” Diana whispered, “ good-bye—dear 
forest.” 

The sounds seemed to swell triumphantly into a 
love song—the weird and wonderful song of th® 
310 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 


night. From bush and branch call answered call, 
mate invited mate ; all the wild things of the wood 
were voicing their need, each of the other. 

So the Beautiful Lady left behind her the sheltered 
lollow in the wood, and turned her face toward the 
with its beating storms, and she turned with glad¬ 
ness. 

It was late the next afternoon when she came at 
las? to her home on the harbor. 

Sophie, warned by a telegram, was waiting for her. 

“ Oh, dearest dear,” she said, as they embraced 
each other in the garden, “ you beauty I Why, 
Diana, you don’t look a day over twenty.” 

“ I’m so happy, Sophie. Happy women are al¬ 
ways young. Oh, I’ve so much to tell you. Your 
letter came with all the other letters. How silly we 
have been l That’s the way with half the troubles 
in life. How easy it would be to be happy if only 
we could look into the minds of other people.” 

Peter Pan, hearing Diana’s voice, came to them, 
tumultuously, leaping above the nasturtium borders 
and the brilliant flower beds. 

Diana picked him up. “ Think of it, Peter,” she 
said, in her thrilling voice ; “ you’re going to live 
up the road with me for all the rest of your life— 


GLORY OF YOUTH 

in Anthony’s house, and I am going to live there, 
too.” 

Sophie gasped. “ Oh, has it come to that ? ” 

“ It has come to everything that means happiness,” 
Diana answered. “ Let’s go up-stairs, Sophie, where 
we can talk.” 

As they entered the house Delia came to meet 
them. Her face lacked its usual beaming welcome. 
“ Oh, my dear,” she said, “ I’m glad to see you so 
much better, but it is a sad errand which has brought 
you.” 

“ Sad—what do you mean, Delia ?” 

The two women exchanged glances, and Sophie 
faltered, “ Didn’t you get my telegram, Diana?” 

“ Telegram—no, I’ve heard nothing.” 

“ It’s Justin. He’s dreadfully hurt. His air-ship 
fell, and Anthony has him at Harbor Light.” 

She sketched the details. " Betty is thera An¬ 
thony won’t let any one see him. But he thinks 
Betty should be within call.” 

“ Oh, Sophie, is it as bad as that-? ” 

“ It is about as bad as it can be, Diana.” 

When they had talked it over, it was decided that 
Diana should call up Anthony and ask to see Betty 
at Harbor Light; when she had given the tele* 
312 



THE ENCHANTED FOREST 


phone number she found herself shivering with 
expectation. In a moment she would hear his 
voice! 

She was told, however, that Dr. Blake was out on 
an important case ; that he would not be back until 
late. 

“ Perhaps I’d better wait until he returns before I 
make any plans,” Diana told Sophie, and then Sara 
came in—a subdued Sara, with much of her sharp¬ 
ness modified, and they had dinner together, and 
were served by the adoring Delia. 

After dinner Diana grew restless, and, wandering 
alone in the garden, found her feet straying in the 
direction of Anthony’s house on the rocks. 

Peter Pan followed her, and waited for her when 
she went in, having learned caution from his last im¬ 
prisonment. 

Diana knew where the key was kept, and felt for 
it. behind a cornice. She let herself in and shut the 
door behind her. The lights from the street lamps 
showed that some pieces of furniture had been placed 
since her last visit. There were rugs beneath her 
feet. On the table in the hall was the end of a 
candle in a quaint silver holder, and a cup contained 
matches. 


3*3 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


She lighted the candle, and made a tour of the 
lower floor. In the living-room she set two big 
chairs side by side on the hearth and laughed a lit¬ 
tle, fancying her head and Anthony’s close together. 
In the dining-room were treasures of china—the 
White Canton in unchipped dozens. She set two 
places on the polished table, and drank Anthony’s 
health in a mystical cup of tea. 

She ascended the stairs. There were massive beds 
and massive highboys and lowboys and tables and 
chairs everywhere, but in the room to which she had 
brought the lilacs there was nothing but a little old- 
fashioned piano, and the gray pottery bowl which had 
held her flowers. Evidently Anthony had changed 
his plans, and this place which he had dedicated to 
her was to be used simply as a sitting-room or music 
room for Bettina. 

The candle flared and went out. Diana sat down 
on the old-fashioned round stool in front of the little 
piano. Anthony’s mother had played on that little 
piano. It had been his father’s gift to his bride. 

With her hands resting on the keys she sat and 
looked out over her beloved harbor. 

There was a little silver moon—Diana’s moon, the 
crescent of the huntress. 


3H 


THE ENCHANTED FOREST 


Well, it was Diana’s night! Her fingers struck 
softly the chords of the music she had created. 



On the other side of the street, a tired man, com¬ 
ing out of a house where a sick woman had needed 
his services, halted and held up his head. 

He crossed the road and entered the house 
The rugs deadened the sound of his steps. He 
stopped on the threshold of that upper room. He 
could see the faint outlines of the tall white figure ; 
he knew the voice, the song. 

“ Diana, my dear girl 1 ” 

She turned and stood up. 

“ Anthony—oh, Anthony, I have come back—to 
you/' 


3*5 
















CHAPTER XXIII 


THE PROCESSION OF PRETTY LADIES 

F )R days the procession of pretty ladies kept 
Justin company. Then they floated away on 
the rolling mists, and he found real faces bending 
over him,—the nurse’s with its fresh comeliness, and 
Anthony’s with a light on it which transfigured it. 

One morning when he waked a white rose lay on 
his pillow. 

“ Did you put it there, nurse ? ” 

“ No. Miss Dolce came.” 

On Anthony’s next visit Justin asked: “ Why 
didn’t you let me see her ? ” 

“ She sees you every day. Just a peep in at youi 
door. But always when you are asleep.” 

“ But why not when I am awake ? ” 

“ It would tire you too much, dear boy.” 

“ Only let me look at her.” 

So at last Bettina stood beside him, very pale, but 
with her eyes shining. 

Justin could not lift his hurt hands to touch her, so 
she bent down and laid her cheek against his, and 
316 


PROCESSION OF PRETTT LADIES 

whispered, “ When you are well, we are going to be 
—married.” 

“ I know—sweetheart” 

“ And—may I have the little silver ring for my 
wedding ring, Justin ? ” 

“Yes, sweetheart.” 

She was not white now, but all rosy with blushes. 
As she again bent over him he felt the thrilling 
power of her youth and beauty. Her presence was 
like wine, reviving him. Her words were a loving 
cup held to his lips. 

“ Oh, my Betty, help me to live,” he whispered, 
weakly. 

“ Hush ; oh, my poor, poor boy.” 

In the weeks that followed it seemed as if only 
love were holding Justin back from death. There 
w^ere days when Bettina was not allowed to see him ; 
there were other days when Anthony dared not tell 
her the fears which assailed him, when he avoided 
all of her questions, confiding only in Diana. 

“ There’s,an awful chance that he will never walk ” 

Diana, very pale, asked, “ Is it his spine ? 99 

“ Yes/ ? 

“ And he was so strong and beautiful w 

“ He will never fly again, Diana.” 

3i7 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“Oh, poor Justin ! ” 

“ And poor Betty. I wonder if, when all the first 
glamour is gone, she will be able to stand the test.” 

“ I am sure she will. She has been so brave.” 

“If I know Justin, he won’t let her marry him 
when he learns the truth.” 

“ Oh, Anthony 1 ” 

“ I haven’t given up hope, however. His wonder¬ 
ful vitality and perfect health may bring about that 
which now seems impossible.” 

Bettina, since she could not minister to Justin, 
spent the days in ministering to others. In the great 
workshop where men and women of wealth wove 
rugs and made pottery as if their bread and butter 
depended upon it, she became a familiar figure. The 
patients loved to have her there, and she went from 
one to the other, a charming little helper in her white 
frock, with her air of girlish grace. 

In those days her beauty assumed a new aspect, 
All the petulance was gone from her expression—the 
restlessness from her manner. 

“ How lovely she is ! ” said nurses and patients and 
doctors, and they spoke not of her physical beauty, 
but of her loveliness of mind and of soul. 

Whenever she was allowed to see Justin she came 
318 


PROCESSION OF PRETTT LADIES 

to him with hope in her shining glance. And one 
day Anthony let her take the nurse’s place, so that 
for the first time they were alone. 

It was then that Justin told her of the Procession 
of Pretty Ladies. “ Anthony says it was the mor- 
phine,” he said, “ but whatever it was, they kept me 
company for days.” 

Betty laughed. 14 You’ll soon have a real proces¬ 
sion of pretty ladies. Diana wants to come, and 
Sophie and Sara and Doris. But Anthony insists 
that they must wait until you can sit up.” 

“ When will that be ? ” 

“ Soon.” 

“ How soon ? ” 

“ Don’t ask so many questions. As soon as it is 
good for you, you impatient boy.” 

“ I am impatient I want to be up and out. 1 
want to fly again over the harbor. Betty, all the 
lovely days are going, and I am lying here like a 
log.” 

Her heart seemed to stand still. She knew that 
he would never fly again. Anthony had told her 
that he might prepare her in part for the truth. But 
Justin must not know. 

She spoke hurriedly “ I should hate to have you 
3i9 


GLORT OF TOUTH 


fly again—I should always be thinking of the time 
I saw you fall.” 

“ It’s the only thing I can do well, Betty.” 

“ There are so many things that you can do—with 
me.” 

He smiled. “ What could I do—with you ? ” 

“You could build a little workroom in the top of 
our house —our house, dear boy ; and you could sit 
there and invent wonderful things f o make other men 
safe who go up in the air, and I could watch you do 
it.” . 

“ But why should I be shut up, dearest? I’m not 
made for that sort of thing. I’d rather be out—in 
the open.” 

There was a note of alarm in his voice. Bettina 
tried to laugh naturally. “ Because Fd rather have 
you with me, you venturesome youth—then I should 
know you were safe.” 

“ If anything could hold me down it would be you, 
—Betty.” 

She was silent for a moment, then she said, with 
hesitation, “Justin, dear-” 

“ Yes?” 

“ I don’t want to wait until you are well—-to be 
married- w 


320 


PROCESSION OF PRETTT LADIES 

As he turned on her his puzzled glance the color 
flooded her face. “ Perhaps it isn’t usual for a 
woman to say—such a thing. Perhaps I shouldn’t 
say it. But—I want to feel that I belong to you-—I 
want to know that I have the right to be always at 
your side. I want to know that—where you go—I 
can go—Justin ” 

The bandages were still on his hands and arms, 
those hands which yearned to take her hands, those 
arms which ached to enfold her. 

But his eyes held a look which was a caress. 
“ But it would not be fair to you, sweetheart,—to 
spend your honeymoon in nursing me.”- 

“It would be fair to me. Oh, Justin, Justin, it isn’t 
just sweetheart love that I am giving you ; it is wife 
love and mother love—I feel sometimes as if you 
were my hurt little boy, and that I’d give my life to 
help you-” 

She was not crying, but her voice held an emotion 
which was deeper than tears ; her steadfast eyes met 
his; her little hands were laid lightly on the covers 
above his heart. 

And suddenly he saw her enthroned—a woman, 
not a child—a wife, not a playmate. Her youth and 
beauty were still there to charm him, but back of 
321 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


them was a quality which would hold him until the 
end—a divine quality of tenderness, of compassion, 
of eternal constancy. 

And, in response, he brought the best that man¬ 
hood can bring to woman—reverence and that high 
regard which makes of marriage a spiritual bond. 

He tried to speak, but his voice failed. Then, as 
she bent above him, she heard his whisper: 

“ Kiss me—my wife l ’ 

In the days which followed the pretty ladies came 
in a charming procession—Diana and Sophie, little 
Sara, bravely wistful, Doris escorted by Bobbie. 
And last, but not least in importance, came Letty 
Matthews, in a new white dress and rose-wreathed 
hat, and with happiness glorifying her plain features. 

But though they came and went, all these good 
friends of his, and he smiled and greeted them, his 
eyes went always beyond them to the little white and 
gold creature with the woman-eyes. And his voice 
would call for her, and until she came he would not 
be content. 


332 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE AFTERGLOW 


^THONY vetoed absolutely the idea of a mar¬ 



riage before Justin’s fate should be finally de¬ 


cided. 


“But if he knows,” Bettina urged with trembling 
lips, “if he knows that he may be—crippled—he 
will say that I shall not marry him. You know that 
he would say that, Anthony.” 

“And he would be right. A chronic invalid should 
not marry, Betty. I have great hope of his recovery. 
You and he must live on that hope a little longer.” 

Bettina begged Diana to intercede, and that lovely 
lady, having claimed Anthony for a twilight walk on 
the beach, began her plea. 

But after the first words she found that she must 
deal not with the man who loved her, but with the 
great Dr. Anthony. 

“I shall certainly not allow it. I am not, of course, 
her legal guardian, and so I cannot prevent it in that 
way. But I can tell Justin.” 


323 


GLORT OF YOUTH 


“ But she will not be happy without him, Anthony 
If it were you, I should marry you.” 

“ I should not let you.” 

“ You could not help it” 

They faced each other—this strong man and this 
strong woman. With their wills opposed, each 
seemed immovable. It was evident that only a great 
depth of affection could bring harmony between their 
dominant natures. 

Anthony, smiling at the earnestness of his beloved, 
did not yield an inch. “ These things are not to be 
decided by sentiment, dear. There are meanings in 
marriage far beyond mere romance, far beyond the 
fate of the two individuals who make the contract. 
We doctors must uphold the ideal of physical per* 
fection lest the race suffer. Moreover Bettina does 
not know, she cannot know, what life would mean 
under such conditions. She does not know her own 
strength, her own weakness. She must learn some¬ 
thing of life before she takes its heaviest burdens 
upon her. If in the years to come she can sustain 
Justin by her friendship, let it be that. She must not 
marry him.” 

“You—with your friendships, Anthony 1 Love 
cannot go back to friendship.” 

324 


THE AFTERGLOW 

She had seated herself on a stone bench which 
backed by a clump of pines, commanded a wide viev 
of the sea. He hesitated, wondering how he might 
chase away the shadow which lay on her lovely face. 

“ Dear heart, we must not disagree about a thing 
which may right itself. Tell Betty that, if she will 
be patient for a few weeks, I shall hope to withdraw 
my opposition.” 

Her eyes did not meet his. 

“ Are you thinking that I am cruel, Diana ? ” 

“ No, oh, no. But your wisdom won’t cure Betty’s 
heartache.” 

“ It may save her future heartaches.” 

“ I wonder if a woman’s point of view is ever a 
man’s point of view, Anthony ? ” 

“Only when two people love each other very 
much, dear. Then each tries to look at life through 
the other’s eyes. We men would grow brutal 
without you to curb us. But, on the other hand, 
you need, now and then, the masculine common- 
sense view-point.” 

“ I don’t want the common-sense point of view in 
this, Anthony.” 

He laid his hands on her shoulders and stood 
looking down at her. 


325 


GLORY OF YOUTH 


* Diana/’ 

" Yes.” 

“ What is it, dear ? ” 

“ I don’t quite like—being curbed, Anthony.” 

She was laughing a little for ; in spite of her re¬ 
bellion, there was something stimulating in the 
thought of his masterfulness. “ You see, I’ve al¬ 
ways ruled,” she said. 

“You shall still rule, everywhere, except in one 
little corner of my kingdom which has to do with 
things medical—over that I must still reign.” 

“ Of course if you think that you are right in 
this-” 

“ I know that I am right. Look at me, Diana.” 

Thrilled by his tone of command, she did look at 
him with eyes like stars. 

Then, knowing that he had conquered, he drew 
her up to him and said, gently, “We doctors have 
to seem cruel to be kind—but you must never be¬ 
lieve me cruel, Diana.” 

So July passed and August, and the little town 
took on all the beauty of its September coloring. 
The dahlias blazed from every fence corner. Against 
the gray rocks their masses of brilliance tempted the 
brushes of the artists who came to paint 
326 



THE AFTERGLOW 


The yachts began to leave the harbor, some of 
them going South, some of them making their exit 
to the clanking chorus of the marine railway. The 
yacht clubs sounded their last guns, packed away 
their pennants and hauled up their floating docks. 
The hotels were closed, and most of the mansions 
on the Neck were deserted. The summer folk were 
turning toward the city, and the little seaport town 
was settling down to its winter routine. 

It was on one of those quiet September days that 
Anthony said to Bettina, “ Set your wedding day, 
my dear.” 

“ Oh, Anthony, may I, really ? ” 

iC Yes. The specialists who came yesterday gave 
a final decision. Justin is going to get—well.” 

The invalid, propped up in a big chair, was ap¬ 
proached thus : 

“ Would you mind if it were a big affair, Justin ? ” 

“ Not if you want it that way, sweetheart.” 

“ I don't, if you don’t. But Diana and the rest 
are planning-” 

He laughed. “ I want the whole world to see 
you, and I want all the bells to ring, and I want to 
run away afterward with you, and to have our 
honeymoon last forever.” 

327 



GLORT OF YOUTH 


So they were married from Diana’s, at high noon* 
and as the bride descended the stairway, a sigh oi 
admiration went up from the waiting guests. Her 
costume had been copied from an old painting, and 
emphasized her likeness to those medieval Venetian 
beauties whose blood ran in her veins. Her veil was 
caught back, cap-fashion, from her face, then fell to 
her feet. The silken thinness of her gown was 
weighted with silver embroideries 0 

Slightly to the left of the officiating clergyman 
was a screen of white roses. As Bettina advanced, 
the screen was set aside, and showed Justin, in a 
big chair, pale and smiling, and seeing only his 
bride as she came toward him. 

Standing by her lover’s side, Bettina gave the 
responses clearly. And when he placed on her 
finger the little silver ring, it was she who bent and 
kissed him. 

As soon as the ceremony was over, the bridegroom 
was whisked away, to be followed by the bride when 
she had cut the wedding cake. 

In the library at the head of the stairs she found 
him. He was on his feet, unsupported, and looking 
expectantly toward the door. 

She gave a little cry, “ Justin, you must not--1 r 

328 


THE AFTERGLOW 


He laughed and held out his arms to her. “ An 
thony said I might. Just to show you. He didn’t 
quite dare for the wedding. But I want you to 
know that you are not marrying—a broken reed— 
dearest” 

She looked up at him. “ How good it seemed,” 
she whispered, “ to see your face above mine. I—I 
am just as high as your heart—Justin.’ 

* * * * * * 

Snow over the harbor. Snow, too, at Harbor 
Light. 

Anthony’s patients, warmly housed, were busy 
with Christmas work. Women who had always 
bought perfunctory Christmas presents, and to 
whom the holiday season had meant merely a 
weary round of shopping, bent eagerly over the 
bit of pottery or of weaving which was to carry a 
message of peace and good will. Men, whose gift¬ 
giving had lost all of its precious meanings, were 
carving quaint weather-vanes and toys with infinite 
pains, and reveling in their skill. 

Diana, moving from one to the other, encouraged 
and suggested. 

“ I am so glad we worked out that mistletoe de¬ 
sign for the pottery and the holly for the little white 
329 


GLORT OF YOUTH 

rugs,” she said; “ it makes the work so much more 
interesting.” 

“ It is you who makes the work interesting,” said 
her adoring husband who was at her elbow. “ Don’t 
you ever wish for anything else ? Wouldn’t you 
like to be down South with Justin and Betty—with 
purple seas and cocoanut palms and tennis and golf 
and good times ? ” 

“I’d rather be here with you. Every time you 
come back from an important case or operation I 
feel as if you were a knight returning from battle— 
no woman can have that feeling when her husband 
isn’t doing vital things—but I’ll wait until I get 
home, Anthony, to tell you the rest of it—the whole 
of Harbor Light has its eyes on us.” 

It was not curiosity which drew the eyes toward 
them. To these weary creatures, many of whom 
had lost their illusions, the romance of their beloved 
doctor had given new hope. Their belief in the 
happiness of another made their own chances of 
happiness seem less remote. 

It was late that night, however, before Diana could 
tell Anthony “ the rest of it.” He was delayed by a 
call to an outside case, and she sat up to wait for him. 

The snow had stopped, and as she stood at the 
330 


THE AFTERGLOW 


window in her room looking out, Minot’s flashed 
above the horizon, and the big light on the Point 
flamed against the darkness like a sun. The little 
twinkling fair weather lights of the summer were 
gone. Only these remained through the beating 
storms to send out their warnings to the ships. 

It was the great lights of the harbor which served 
humanity; it was great men like Anthony who 
served! '* « 

Smiling a little, in the fulness of her content, she 
turned back into the fire-lighted room, and went to 
her piano. 

Anthony, coming up the stairs, spent and chilled, 
heard her singing: 

“ The stormy evening closes now in vain, 

Loud wails the wind and beats the driving rain, 

While here in sheltered house 
With fiery-painted walls, 

I hear the wind abroad, 

I hark the calling squalls — 

‘ Blow, blow,’ I cry, 4 you burst your cheeks in vain ! 
Blow, blow,’ I cry, ‘my love is home again ! * M 

On the threshold of this blessed sanctuary all of 
his weariness seemed to vanish; here he found rest 
and refreshment—here, at last, he had found fulfil¬ 
ment of all his dreams. 


331 


















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